


Hemlock

by ArchiveOsprey



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist!Kieran, Backstory, Belladona is a wildcard/wildfire/&wildflower at the same time, Character Death, Cliffhangers, Dark!Dylan, Dylan being toxic to everyone including himself, Dylan goes crazy, Dylan is the Catalyst of the story, Emotional Roller Coaster, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Heavy Angst, I don’t bother rating these because I don’t know how quickly things will escalate, Imagine tagging things properly, Internal Crises 101, Lauki vs Dylan, Lauren has a reality check, Lauren vs Kieran vs Dylan showdown, Obsessive/Toxic/Manipulative Dylan, Pain, Parallels, Parallels are everywhere, Physically and mentally abusing basically everyone in here, So many references it could be a remix, So much spice it can kill Williame thrice, Song references, Symbolism 101, Toxic Relationship, Trauma for all ages ✨, Two-part Saga (The Poison and The Cure), changing your perceptions of these characters so fast you’ll get whiplash, diff povs, poetry references, references everywhere, tbh these chapters keep getting longer and that’s that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 61,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchiveOsprey/pseuds/ArchiveOsprey
Summary: "I hope you missed me, Ren," Dylan mused, his eyes alight with a silver fire, his words sharp and severe as a thorn yet smooth and ever so luxuriously delicate as an ivory rose petal, "I hope me going missing drove you mad. I hope my absence was such a plague on your existence that your only cure is me, and my love, I will gladly provide you with the antidote."Theme Song: New Person, Same Old Mistakes - Tame Impala
Relationships: Dylan Rosenthal & Belladona Davenport, Dylan Rosenthal & Lauren Sinclair, Dylan Rosenthal/Lauren Sinclair, Kieran White & Belladona Davenport, Lauren Sinclair & Kieran White, Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Comments: 62
Kudos: 121





	1. Nevermore

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1: Poison
> 
> Theme Song for Poison: Walls Could Talk - Halsey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins
> 
> Poem Reference: “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dylan POV
> 
> Chapter’s Theme Song: Ghost by Halsey

**Chapter 1** : Nevermore 

**Dylan**

* * *

_“I hope you missed me, Ren,” Dylan mused, his eyes alight with a silver fire, his words sharp and severe as a thorn yet smooth and ever so luxuriously delicate as an ivory rose petal, "I hope me going missing drove you mad. I hope my absence was such a plague on your existence that your only cure is me, my love, and I will gladly provide you with the antidote.”_

* * *

_Careful,_ the ghost who was once a boy named Dylan Rosenthal thought as he wove his way through the dark corners of Greychapel. _Careful, and tread lightly, for even in a full moon, you’re not seeing the full story. There’s always the side you’ll never see, the shadows you can’t escape._

These days, he went by a different alias. Dr. Hemlock, 23 years old, the phantom scythe’s favorite pharmacist. 

Hemlock. The poisonous flower with no antidote, no cure. Merciless apothecary, poisonous flower florist and mixer of both deadly concoctions, swift and silent tranquilizers, and antidotes alike. He was a white rose, thorns and all, leaves green with envy and life all the same, petals of ivory showing perfection, thoughtfulness, charm, but he had chosen a deadlier mask for himself. Hemlock, a white flower that could kill in a way much more painful than any blade. He would have his moment, where he was revered, respected, feared, wanted, _the best of the best_. He would have his moment, when he wasn’t just a ghost living in the shadow of the two famous human weapons he supplied for. 

He gave The Purple Hyacinth his name and his flowers, he gave Belladona Davenport her golden viper venom to coat her wicked blade, yet somehow, no one outside the phantom scythe knew his name. So he spent his free time in the shadows, following the one inferno who would burn down anything in her path to find him, even if the world convinced her he was dead.  
  
In the crescent moon, the remainder of the light was only provided by the stars that held their breath as the specter walked the streets, the lamplights dimmed and sparse in these parts. The crescent of the moon was a bone white scythe threatening to strike, and it slashed across the sky as the specter with the camera and the cap went hunting for his wildfire. The ghost had a shadow of his own that danced on the sidewalks wherever the light touched his figure, and he lurked in the corners and stalked the streets, ivory petals of the white rose boutonniere secured to his umber vest falling on the cobblestones, marking the trail of his steps. His figure was decorated with an umber vest, brown trousers, a white shirt, and a grey overcoat decorating his figure, his coat billowing out behind him as he lifted his camera to his brow, living in the shadows but taking pictures of the only fire who dared to burn in the day and night alike. A brown cap covered the white crown of curls that spilled out of his cap. He was a poisonous flower, devastating in his beauty, but his face was obscured by the camera he held to his visage as he snapped a shot of the night sky. 

_Where did you go, Ren?_ He wondered, eyes scanning his surroundings. 

“ _Try not to miss me too much, haha_!” 

The remains of his own laughter lost long ago echoed in his ears, lost in the eerie silence of the night, the ghost continuing his stroll on the streets of Ardhalis. The snow was drifting down, falling onto the cobblestones like ash, the specter’s steps haunting every corner. _There,_ he noted, hearing hurried yet graceful footsteps in the snow, her tracks looking like petals designed into snow. His fingers curled around his camera, raising it up, tilting it to capture the perfect angle of Lauren Sinclair in all her glory, the missing digit tapping against the lens absentmindedly, as the woman stepped up onto a few boxes near the side of a wall in an alleyway, stepping onto a foothold in the brick of the wall, fumbling for a handhold and hoisting herself up onto the roof of a building, standing and turning so that the light of the moon hit her face, golden eyes shut, eyelashes resting against her skin, mouth set into a determined line, rose red hair blowing in the wind. _Hello, Ren._

His camera clicked with a quiet * _katcha_ * and he ducked into the shadows again as her eyes snapped open, sighing before turning and running across the rooftop, jumping from one to the next. He followed after, struggling to keep his distance and keep up with her in the darkness of the night. 

He had begun to track her about an hour ago, when, upon exiting his apothecary, he caught a glimpse of her tell-tale crimson-red hair, in Greychapel of all places, golden eyes cutting through the night as she had passed straight by him, who was lingering in the shadows, determination shining in her eyes. _Ren, do tell what might you be doing at this hour of the night?_

A few moments later, the ghost ducked as a second shadow leapt overhead, looking up as they blocked the moon for a moment, landing on the next rooftop with a thud and sprinting on. _Oh, Ren. Who is that by your side, dare I ask?_ He picked up his pace, seeing the two of them running side by side before dropping into an alleyway. When he caught up with them, he noted that they both had stopped in a street, both of them illuminated under the spotlight of a lamppost, the crescent moon shining overhead, snow drifting every which way. 

Then, the two did the strangest thing: the figure in the shadows gestured at her with his arms and she returned the gesture by flailing her arms wildly. 

The ghost was a bit confused but he decided not to comment on it, assuming it was some sort of way they communicated without words?

Lauren sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose, "We don’t need to sign, no one’s here you dumba-"

"Still, Officer, standing in the lamplight is a very quick way to get yourself killed at this hour.”

”Then get your sorry face over here and stop with the stupid arm gestures.”

”You act as if you’re not the moron who invented the ridiculous signs in the first place for our mission with anslow, which you ruined, in case you forgot,” the figure hissed, stepping forward into the light.

Wait, he _knew_ that voice. He looked up, seeing none other than Kieran White, THE Purple Hyacinth, Lauren Sinclair looking at him almost as if she were bored and wanted to shoot him at the same time. 

Realization struck him like a bullet between the ribs, and he staggered back, further into the shadows. 

Lauren was working with the Purple Hyacinth… but why? unless... but then.. that would mean... 

"Oh please, you forget you’re the one who killed all the people in the tower, Hyacinth,” she snapped.

She _knew_ he was the purple hyacinth, which could only mean that?- but no, that was impossible!-

He fell silent. Breathed in, out, and then continued, “If you’re so keen to bring the past back up, might we remain in the present for just a moment? Really, do enlighten me Officer, why the hell did you storm off? It took me a whole hour to find you!” Kieran snapped, sauntering towards her.

“You have to learn to keep up, Kieran,” she retorted with a sneer, leaning against the lamppost and crossing her arms, leveling him with a fiery stare. “And I left you because you’re a heartless monster who wouldn’t even let me intervene on behalf of innocent children.”

“Dammit, Lauren, don’t you get it? Oh forget it. The reason I lagged behind, _darling,_ is because I got caught in the rioting crowd, and plus, immediately running off after you would’ve drawn more attention. You’re lucky a girl crying and running away from a scene like that is common, and you’re even luckier they didn’t drag you back and try to make an example of you, or worse, find out your identity.”

“Crying?! I was not _crying_.”

Dylan suppressed a bubble of laughter. Classic Lauren, even as a child she would always take offense at the most insignificant of jabs. 

“Do you _want_ to expose our identity as Lune to the whole APD? I wanted to help those orphans as much as you did, but if you interfered, you could’ve gotten shot.” 

Lune. _LUNE_. Dylan fought the urge to let out a stunned, exasperated laugh. Of course, how could he not have seen it? It was so painfully obvious, it made so much _sense_ -

His voice was surprisingly calm, even as it fringed on frustration. “Tell me officer, even if you survived, how the hell would you explain to your _friends_ what you were doing with Kieran White in Greychapel of all places, threatening a fellow cop who was simply performing their _duties_ as officers of the _law,_ _”_ he snarled, a taunting tone to the word _law._

The specter averted his stormy silver gaze as it dimmed to a dull, pale greyish white. Police officers around these parts were particularly cruel to the homeless and the orphans, and he had seen it much too often. Sometimes he would provide desperate clients with a much needed pain reliever or medication, but that was about as far as his kindness extended. 

“Maybe it’s time you should be reminded, _subordinate,_ I’m the daughter of Chief of Police Tristan Sinclair, and those cops were abusing those poor children, not patrolling peacefully, so I wouldn’t define that as _performing their duties,”_ she spat. 

His frown curled up into a wicked sneer, delighting in Lauren’s pet name for The Purple Hyacinth. Silly of him to think Lauren would treat a monster like him as her equal. He remembered the days he would build her daisy crowns, but he knew if he would’ve known the woman she was now... 

She was so very **_alive_ , ** it was breathtaking _. She is dazzling, she is daring, she is determined, brilliant, fierce, stunning, she is magnificent, and she is_ ** _mine,_** he thought, eyes going blurred over slightly as he lost himself in the fantasy of her eyes locked on his, on the smile on her face when she’d finally find him, when she’d finally save him. _Well, not yet,_ he admitted to himself, eyes wandering wayward to the stars... _but she_ **_will_ ** _be,_ he thought, eyes hungrily snapping back to her as she faced off against the infamous assassin. 

No, if he had known who she would become, he would’ve made her a crown of golden laurels true to her name, woven with crimson roses, a twin crown of white roses and prickly thorns on his head. He would be her prince, and she would be his queen, and they would rule together, in the light of the moon and in the light of the sun all the same. 

“Oh they’ll _listen_ to you!” Kieran laughed, the sound harsh and unforgiving, stirring him from his delusional dreams. “Just like they did last time?” 

Lauren recoiled. Hemlock’s lips curled down into a scowl, but he busied himself with taking a snapshot of the two forbidden partners, La Lune underneath the obscure light of the sickle shaped moon, Kieran’s electric blue gaze of enigma and mystery delving deep into Lauren’s eyes of liquid gold that it couldn’t manage to decode. 

But together... together they were a pair of moon flowers, curious white flowers that only bloomed in the night, spiraling around each other as they faced each other as if they were in a duel, eyes fierce, jaws set.

“Ugh, forget it, we’re running out of time and we don’t have time for this. We’ll pick this up tomorrow and meet at the bridge before heading back out to Greychapel again," Lauren hissed, crossing her arms, shifting away from him uncomfortably, just realizing their proximity. 

A pause, the two staring at each other for a heated moment, the air seeming to sizzle, daring to ignite. In the shadow of the embers sparking into a flame, he was simply a pale ghost lingering outside the reach of the moon, the invisible shadow to a flame.

“Fine,” _The_ Purple Hyacinth finally conceded, shoulders still tense, jaw stiff as he gritted out, "I’ll see you tomorrow night, try to get some rest."

Lauren scoffed, the exhaustion apparent enough from the dark circles under her eyes, and then walked off, a slight sway to her hips, eyes narrowed, furious, rose red hair tied up into a secure ponytail that flew out behind her like a banner, bright against the night sky. Bold, bright, brilliant as a fire, and the specter was desperate to be burned if it meant he would feel something again. Hemlock dragged his tongue over his bottom lip as he watched her go, adjusting his camera and taking another photograph. Afterwards, his focus shifted back to The Purple Hyacinth, alone in his spotlight, looking so incredibly _sad_ that Dylan had to fight the urge to laugh. 

Kieran watched her go, relaxing slightly as the tension eased from his shoulders, an unreadable expression in the abyss of his blue eyes, a sigh spilling from his lips. “Truly your forgiveness I implore…hmm,” he trailed off, looking up at the stars. “Darkness there and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal dared to dream before …” he shook his head and then looked at his hands before looking back at the stars. 

Edgar Allen Poe. Hemlock tuned out Kieran’s mumbling of poetry, fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the camera, eyes cold and emotionless. 

Kieran was always so damn sentimental, and took longer to break than most of the phantom scythe recruits. Even when he did break, he was determined to be the best, not just a well wielded weapon, but feared for the ruthlessness of his actions. Dylan scowled. They never appreciated the subtlety of poisoning in comparison to the showy bloodbaths that “sent a message.”

It made sense that even now he was rebelling in his own way. Teaming up with _Lauren Sinclair_ of all people to take down the phantom scythe. It was ingenious, actually, if the dysfunctional nature of their dynamic duo was disregarded. The Sinful Sinclair and the Murderous Monster. Amusing. 

“...the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token…” Kieran continued softly, looking so _lost._

Clearly, someone had gotten more than they bargained for. It was highly entertaining watching The Purple Hyacinth when he was most vulnerable, but it brought back unwelcome memories of smoke and screams and...

Dylan forced the memory away, gritting his teeth, lowering his camera. 

Artists and dreamers had no place in a world run rampant with chaos and deception. Now, onto the real questions. How would he manage to lure in La Lune?

“...and the only word there spoken…” Kieran continued on, an actor with no audience, a dreamer with dreams lost in every drop of human blood spilled, a human turned into a weapon. He would be far too problematic, and Hemlock would have to get rid of him, yes, definitely, perhaps even put a purple hyacinth on his corpse for laughs, but _how_? 

“....Merely this and nothing more…”

Dr. Hemlock suddenly felt the gears of his mind working, wondering how many variables it would take to destroy every last bit of humanity in a weapon like him. He smirked to himself, a plan unfolding like a spider’s web in his mind, a golden key in the center stained with blood, a purple hyacinth withered to ash. The perfect plan, that would ensnare two birds with one thorny vines. 

“Nevermore…” 

Hemlock shook himself back to his senses as the sorrowful stargazer turned on his heel and slipped into the night. Besides, he had to get going.

Unlike Kieran White, Dr. Hemlock had no time for dreams. 

_Ghosts can make excellent catalysts for catastrophe,_ he thought, as he made his way back, _and if I said I wasn’t excited for the chaos about to unfold, Lauren would be able to tell I was lying,_ and in the subtlety of the shadows, he slipped away, just like the ghost he was. 

_I’ll forgive you for making a deal with the devil, Sinclair, just prove to me that you are and will always be *_ ** _mine_** _*,_ he thought, storm grey eyes flashing. 

“ _You’ll be the best Doctor this city has ever seen_ .” She believed in him when no one else did. She ran into the fire for him when everyone else ran away. If only she had gotten there in time everything would’ve been different. _His cap knocked from his head, hand clamped over his mouth, dragged out of the way, seeing a girl in a yellow dress and a bow in her hair rushing towards the flames when all the others ran away. “Dylan!” She screamed. “Dylan?!”_ **_“I’m here!”_ ** _He tried to scream, but his screams were muffled against the man’s palm as he was forced into the back of a car and the door slammed shut, locking him into the darkness._

He shook the memory away, closing his eyes and then opening them, taking in a shuddering breath and exhaling sharply as his hands shook, eyes flicking down to his missing finger. A hurricane was coming, and it would be unstoppable. Hemlock had no antidote, and he would finally get everything he ever wanted, everything he ever deserved. Who cared if a few flowers withered and died in its wake? After all, Lauren did always say he’d kill more people than he’d save, and he had a promise to keep.

A promise that he’d be a doctor.

A promise she would be a police officer. 

A promise they would save people together. * _Oh Ren, people are too selfish... the only ones we will save.. will be each other, but rest assured, if I save you and you save me, it will all have been worth it. I’m sure of it_.*

A promise to come back to her. 

_"Okay! Stay there, I’ll be back!"_

Every day he vowed he’d come back to her, and it was about time they had a long overdue reunion. He would no longer be the specter, the ghost, the invisible man. He would be Dylan to her and for her alone. 

Hemlock walked back to his residence, unlocking the door with a golden key, the sign hanging overhead, the words “Ivory Rose Apothecary” displayed, an insignia painted on the sign of two snakes, one gold and one red interwoven around a white staff, a white rose upon the top of the medical staff, white wings flaring out. 

He stepped in, sighing as he took off his cap, resting it on the countertop. It was perfectly intact, no patch sewed into it, for there were no room for imperfections when one served the phantom scythe and their own selfish greed. His home consisted of three sections. The apothecary, the main area of the building with all of his concoctions, the back warehouse designed into a greenhouse space where he could grow his flowers, and his dwelling. He took out his ring of keys, the copper for his room, the gold for the apothecary, and the silver for the flowers.

He turned the copper key into the key slot with a satisfactory click, stepping into his room and closing the door behind him. His eyes adjusted to the red light, taking out his camera and setting it on his desk next to his bed. He turned, seeing all the photographs dangling from their clips on the lines dancing across the top of his rooms, trays with pictures being processed in the chemical baths set neatly onto boxes put together. He looked in the mirror, and in the red light of the bedroom-converted-darkroom, his pale irises looked akin to a murderous blood red. He turned away from his reflection, running a hand through his ivory curls, mouth curled down into a deep frown.

A bundle of lavender was already underneath his pillow and a vase of red and white roses were placed atop his nightstand, although the red lighting made it a bit hard to tell which was which. He picked up two of the roses, one red and one white, stepping outside of his room and closing the door, but when he blinked he could’ve sworn for a moment the tips of the white rose’s delicate petals seemed to be stained with blood. He crushed it in his right hand wincing as the stub of the missing finger rubbed against one of the petals. He tossed the rose into a waste bin, instead lifting the red rose to his face with his other hand. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, the aroma bringing a small smile to his face, shadows slashing across his face in the dim lighting of the apothecary, stepping forward and opening the door, stepping into the blinding light of the greenhouse as the lights flashed on, revealing rows upon rows of flowers. He eyed the belladonna flowers, making a mental note to contact Davenport later for a favor to set his plan into motion. 

He passed the rest of the plants and flowers in the greenhouse, the light of the dawn filtering in and illuminating the different colors on display. He spared a scowl for the hyacinths, eyes passing over the yellow ones and narrowing at the purple, walking to a small storage closet near his supply of Hemlock and unlocking it with a slightly rusted key from his pocket. He pushed the door open, closing it behind him, a window allowing in the light from the sun during the day, the light of the rising dawn illuminating the daisies carefully, almost obsessively tended to, taking out a journal filled to the brim with photographs of _her._ He sat on the windowsill, looking out at the sunrise, and lifted a pen to his temple, clicking it once, twice, thrice. “Hmm,” Dr. Hemlock faded away with the dawn, only leaving a specter in his wake, a ghost of the Dylan he once was, desperately trying to preserve the only fire that never extinguished in his mind, the obsession controlling his pen as it met the paper, elegant strokes turning into frantic, desperately scribbles as he begun to write, leaving space for the photographs he’d put in later. 

"Dear Lauren," he repeated the words out loud, as if she could hear him in her dreams, or in her restless subconscious.   
  
“I hope you missed me, Ren,” he mused, his eyes slightly crazed, alight with a silver fire, his words sharp and severe as a thorn yet smooth and ever so luxuriously delicate as an ivory rose petal, "I hope me going missing drove you mad. I hope my absence was such a plague on your existence that your only cure is me, my love, and I will gladly provide you with the antidote.”

"Until we meet again.

~Dylan."

He closed the notebook and stood, checking the clock on the wall, before quickly exiting the closet, locking it behind him, rushing out the greenhouse and kicking the door shut behind him, mask falling back into place, Dr. Hemlock’s eyes quickly scanning his shelves for a vial of golden viper venom. It seemed he would have to pay an old friend a visit. 


	2. The Road Not Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kieran 
> 
> Poem reference: “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter’s Theme Song: Colors by Halsey 
> 
> Dylan isn’t really in this chapter, but there’s *much* more to come in the upcoming chapters 👀

**_Chapter 2: The Road Not Taken_ **

**Kieran**

Kieran White stared at the white page, pencil poised right above, hovering, hesitating, lamplight illuminating the parchment as he closed his eyes, sighing. 

His eyes fluttered open, pencil gently scratching at the parchment, willing it to reveal its secrets, sketching a scene from earlier. 

He depicted the orphans he saw earlier, one of the older ones standing in front of them, cap askew on his head, a bit big for his head, a few curls from his hair dangling over his eyes, visage set in a fierce expression battling with fear as the other children shrunk away in terror from the so called officers of the law that prowled during the night in Greychapel.

He paused, staring at the child’s cap, shaking his head sadly. He remembered the fire, the screams, the decision that if he could at least save one person, perhaps he would’ve done something other than stand there in shock and regret it later-

Two roses, one red, one white, driving him insane. 

All the colors swirling in his head were reduced to monochrome as he sketched his soul onto parchment,  _ scratch, scratch, skrr, skrah-  
  
_

_ “Why are you always drawing?” _

He stiffened as the memory hit him once more and gripped onto the pencil with both hands, trying to hold onto his sanity, his last bit of humanity that he preserved through his sketches.

_ “Have you ever felt that tinge of warmth,” _

_ Dylan sitting on a desk opposite from him, in his father’s shop, plants and flowers everywhere, fiddling with some film, having been talking to him about photography as he sketched out a little girl playing amongst the doves in the city park, lips parted in laughter, eyes shut.  _

_ “When you see those subtle moments in life that remind you,” he smiled down at his paper. _

_ “Humanity can be beautiful?” _

The days before everything went south. Kieran would come to the flower gardener’s shop with his family and draw as his parents picked out selections for their home every two weeks, and he was pretty well acquainted with the gardener’s son, even though he barely knew the monster he had turned into now. 

_ “I draw them so I can keep it.” _

Perhaps they shared the same sentiment.

_ “This sense of humanity.” _

_ Weeks later. Kieran’s smile as he tasted a slice of cheesecake, sitting by the window of a nice bakery located on the outskirts of the shops lining the allendale train station that his parents had given him some change to stop by before he met up with them for the ceremony.  _

_ “I don’t ever want to lose it.” _

{Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.}

_ The screams following the explosion ringing in his ears, the way the raspberry drizzle on the cheesecake looked like blood as he dropped the fork, sick to his stomach, hurtling out the bakery, as shocked gasps arose from around him, running, running, dodging his way past the crowd that ran away from the station as he ran towards it. “Mum?! Da!? Ciara!!” A wooden beam groaned and collapsed to the ground, sparks flying over it, and he managed a parkour over it, perhaps drawing the attention of the scar faced man who lingered by the side, mouth twisted into a sneer that relished in the chaos. He saw a brown cap, white curls, tears spilling from silver eyes as Dylan Rosenthal of all people stood, a palm pressed to his mouth as he screamed into it, eyes wide with horror. Kieran skidded to a stop, stunned from the aftershock of the explosion and from seeing his usually cheerful, charming friend so distraught, eyes locking on the figure of Dylan’s father crushed under a wooden beam, a hand reaching out, a bucket of the royalty’s signature purple hyacinths overturned onto its side, the flowers falling onto the ground and mixing with the blood seeping from friend’s father’s corpse. Oh, Kieran thought, remembering the double meaning of the flowers, the irony.  _

_ “We have to get out of here-“ _

_ Dylan sniffed, taking out a white rose and kneeling down, setting it in his father’s hand, but Kieran’s arm wrapped around his waist, tugging him back as a gust of flame rose up from the fire sparking on the wooden beam, almost singing Dylan’s face off. “NO!-“ Dylan screamed, “Let me die with him!” kicking and thrashing as he yelled, “I deserve to burn for leaving his side!”  _

_ “I’m sorry,” Kieran sobbed, shaking his head, tugging him back, using all his strength, determined to save at least one person. "I can’t let you die too.” _

_ "NO!!!” His screams were muffled as Kieran clamped a hand over his mouth, even as he fought with every fiber of his being, dragging him away from the fire, away, away, away- _

_ “Dylan! DYLAN!?” A girl with a yellow ribbon in her crimson red hair, a yellow dress, red hair the color of a thousand different meanings, ran against the crowd, a flickering golden flame-  _ The image distorted in his mind,  _ yellow… yellow fire… burning wood… screams… onyx ash... _

{Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.}

_ Dylan cried out a word similar to “Run”  _ ~~_ but little did Kieran know it was, in fact “ _ **_Ren_ ** _ ”, for the very Lauren who he made a deal with under the moon many years later _ ~~ _~~,~~ muffled by Kieran’s hand, his hand reaching out, crying out the  _ ~~_ name _ ~~ _ word again, and Kieran released Dylan’s mouth, perhaps he could save two today, if only- _

_Dylan took in a breath, about to call out again, but a shadow passed over them and then something blunt and hard whacked over the top of his head, sending his head spinning, scrambling his thoughts, pain shooting through his skull, and he dropped Dylan, crumpling to the ground, his head spinning. “Ah, what do we have here,” a man with a plague doctor mask and a tattoo on his wrist said, grabbing Dylan by the hair as he tried to escape, silver eyes wide in fear, wrenching his head back and forcing him to his knees as well. "Who are you?!” Dylan snarled, eyes crazed, terrified, teeth bared like a rabid animal caught in a snare. “Agh,” Kieran groaned as he pressed a hand to his head,_ everything was distorted, he couldn’t manage to remember anything but the blood, the blood, _the_ _blood dripping down his head, ragged breaths as he rose onto his hands and knees. The man with the scar on his face smirking, seizing Kieran by the throat, lifting him almost effortlessly and saying, a wicked sneer to his lips, “These will do. Blindfold them.”_

_ White cloth blinding their eyes, rough hands dragging them back into an unknown void, the door slamming, an engine starting, Kieran rubbing his head against the side of the car until his blindfold fell off, pressing the cloth against the gash in his head, turquoise eyes flickering as he rasped, “Dylan?” _

_ “I’m here.” Dylan’s voice was dead, emotionless, raw from crying and screaming. Kieran had tried to block out the fires, the screams, the darkness and the rocking of the car over the pavement, shifting to the boy with the white hair, holding out his hand, Dylan taking it, squeezing his hand, forgiving him for a split second, grasp secured as if they were holding onto each other for survival, for their sanity, the two of them huddling together, tears falling down their face, a girl with pink hair sniffling in the far corner of the car, holding a snake plush toy to her chest, a chain around her ankle.  _

_ Kieran slumped against him, whimpering, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He wished he had a pencil, a parchment, something, anything, his fingers twitching on the floor, painting swirls of his own blood, trying to soothe himself but only making himself more scared, shaking in fear. He looked up at the girl, but she glared at them, “Stay away from me, everyone stay away,” she hissed under her breath, tears pricking to her eyes. “Leave me alone,” she whimpered, burying her face into her snake plush, hugging it tighter, breaking down into a fit of sobs. Kieran’s heart wrenched, and his hope shattered.  _

{Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.}

_ He deserved to be punished, he deserved all the pain that would come his way, for instead of saving someone that day, he had only ruined more lives. Many years later, Kieran, now 24, Dylan 23, realized he should have allowed Dylan to die as he wished. Anything was better than this… In a way, he had died that day. Once small-talk friends, dreamers in their own respects, the artist and the healer, forged in fire, allies for the purpose of their survival and remnants of their shattered sanity. _

The memories distorted again, fragments of lost moments,  _ sitting under the stars when they could escape from one of the many phantom scythe strongholds for a moment, nowhere to go.  _

_ Sparring together, grins on their faces as they bantered, blades clashing together, their only family and home being each other... until the training had begun, and their skills and darker colors had begun to show. Kieran had only preserved the ghost in the permafrost of his own mistakes, and allowed the frostbite of his actions to fester, until all that was left was a snake seething with poison.... _

_ In that car, they huddled together, in the days that followed, they fought together, until things had only got worse, and worse, until he had finally killed the real Dylan Rosenthal for good with a single slash of a blade, only leaving Hemlock in his wake, a divide forming between the two, once brothers in arms, worsened by the rivalry and the blood spilled as the the Viper and Hyacinth fought for fame, leaving the Specter, skilled in the more subtle arts of killing and chemistry in their shadow. _

If only he had known what was to come, he would’ve let Dylan burn in the fire and he would’ve let himself burn right along with him until he was nothing but a pile of ash, if it could’ve spared him all this suffering. Instead, he had fought for humanity, he had fought for life, even when the purpose of it seemed to be lost, he found solace in his sketches once again, and under the light of the moon, he finally found a new purpose to fulfill, feeling something other than the numbness that followed his kills as the Phantom Scythe’s Leader’s favorite assassin. He found someone who reminded him what it felt like to truly be  _ human.  _ To be alive. To  _ feel.  _ Lauren Sinclair _.  _ So much had happened, but he still had a sliver of hope, for she gave him something no one else did. A second chance. At redemption.  _ You’re nothing but a monster. _

He forced the memory away. 

...Maybe not about the second chances anymore, not like he deserved them, anyways, but it didn’t change the fact she made him feel human… even if for a second… 

He shook his sentiment to the side, starting to twirl the pencil in his hand, the wood slowly turning in his fingers, the sharpened pencil lead brushing against his skin every now and then. 

He would stop the leader, once and for all, his partner by his side, but little did he know, before that happened, he would be facing a much more imminent threat from the hemlock flowers beginning to bloom out of control. He fiddled with the ribbon in his hair, tightening it before starting to sketch again. 

{Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.}

_ He tore the ribbon from his hair, sighing down at it. He never used to tie his hair up as much as he did now, remembering upon his first day of training finding a yellow ribbon that reminded him of something... a flame perhaps? he couldn’t recall, and tying his hair up. As the days passed on, he forfeit gold ribbons for white ones, a surrender to his fate, or perhaps a testament to his last name, a reminder of the family, the only ones who had ever loved him before they too, were consumed by fire. Focus, Kieran, he had told himself. Never forget your humanity. Survive, but resist, rebel at every chance you get. Don’t let them break you, even though you’re already broken, don’t let them turn them into their weapon. _

{And sorry I could not travel both}

He had paid for that mistake in blood. He had been paying ever since, paying homage to the dead through the purple hyacinths he scattered around them. They had never been intended to be just a threat to the royalty.  


They had been an apology for the crimes he had committed, the crimes that could  _ never _ be forgiven.

His hands gripped back onto both sides of the pencil again, the wood threatening to snap as his hands shook, the memories returning, ravaging him relentlessly. 

{And be one traveler, long I stood}

_ Silver eyes wide in fear, a cap over white curls, thrashing against a chair, chains holding him in place, a knife chopping between his fingers, daring to slip up, a deadly game neither participants wanted to play, Dylan begging Kieran to spare him from the phantom scythe’s favorite punishment for traitors other than execution and extensive torture, that he was innocent, that he wouldn’t dare to disobey the phantom scythe, Kieran’s knife twirling in hand before he brought it down on Rosenthal’s finger, slashing it clean off, Dylan’s screams that followed, haunting him to this day.  _

{And looked down one as far as I could}

He remembered how he couldn’t have picked up a paintbrush afterwards, the wood feeling too much like the wooden handle of the knife he had used to slash off Dylan’s finger, the red paint on the bristles looking too much like blood. How long it had taken him until he could pick up a pencil at least, sketching in monochrome, the colors of the world dulled to the void monsters like him lived in.

{To where it bent in the undergrowth}

He tried to forget the phantom of a boy who remained after. A hemlock flower allowed to grow in the light of his sins, but the memories rushed in, one after the other, tidal waves crashing down on his conscience and making his throat hurt as he suppressed the tears threatening to rise, letting out a strangled cry. 

* **_snap_ ** * He shuddered, the sound stirring him from his memories, eyes flying open as he dropped the pencil that snapped in half, fragments of splinters digging into his hands, lead staining his fingers. 

{Then took the other, just as fair.}

Yet, despite it all, he had chosen to rebel anyways. Took a different path, made a deal with the flame that dared to flicker in the night, a police officer with enough determination to carry her weight, crooked enough to take his deal at face value, intelligent enough to realize it made logical sense, the missing key to his success, eyes golden with hair of burnished red. 

{And having perhaps the better claim.}

A deal bound by their blood, a dangerous gamble as their hands clasped and eyes met under the mood light, fire and water, the rain and the lighting, a perfect storm in the stillness of the night, the moonlight shining down upon them as the clock tower chimed midnight. 

Today, he would meet her again, and under the moon, they would return back to their hunt for answers and for justice, preventing yet another explosion and taking down the phantom scythe, stone by stone, brick by brick, together. 

{I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.}

* * *

He met her at ten o’clock. Sharp. 

“Hello Officer, _ **** I take it you slept well?” **** _he chided, noting the darker circles under her eyes.

She scowled and rolled her eyes heavenward. “You keep testing my patience, and you get a bullet in your heart.”

“Fair enough. Also, no more headshots? My, my, my heart is all aflutter.”

“Because of fear? Good, because don’t forget I can always stop it for you.”

“So violent, your obsession with murder stuns me to this day. Truly,  _ you  _ should’ve been the assassin.”

“Oh, and you’d be the police officer?”

“Why of course. I’d draw every day, spout a bunch of morally righteous nonsense.”

“You draw? Oh, I think I remember seeing some sketches in your apartment,” she noted.

Kieran froze. His smirk faded into a frown, eyes locked on hers, looked away quickly. The room was _ locked,  _ how had she-

“It was on a table or something.” He fidgeted slightly, a hand rubbing against the back of his neck, walking in a circle.

Oh. Just a few sketches. Not-

“You also had quite a few books. Very organized..” _Why did it feel like he was being interrogated?_

“Why of course, you can’t expect someone like me to spend all their free time chatting with corpses and criminals,” he said, eyes narrowing. She was wandering into dangerous territory, and he didn’t know what he would do if she used his one weakness, his desperation to capture the humanity in the world, against him. She was studying him, analyzing him, decoding him, unraveling him.  _ Stop,  _ he thought, eyes casting wayward furiously.  _ Stop looking at me like that.  _

“To be fair, I expected a lot of things, but I didn’t expect you to be an artist. Now that I think about it, it makes sense I guess, capturing the moments where-” shut up, shut  _ up _ , she couldn’t know,  _ you can’t know, you’re not  _ **_allowed_ ** _ to, we made a deal to not delve into anything too personal, we made a  _ **_deal._ ** _ Not like he was one to follow it all that well, anyways. Perhaps he deserved to be destroyed at his most vulnerable, by her, especially. A police officer punishing a criminal. That’s what this was. Not his partner, not the one person in the world who made him feel human believing that he was human, too, that he deserved  _ **_more_ ** _ than pain, after everything.  _

“Kieran?” She noticed the faraway look in his eyes, tensing slightly. 

He deflected the inquiry, instead spitting out, “Tell me Officer, if we made the deal and you were the assassin, would you be my subordinate instead?” He let his grin split across his features, flashing his teeth in a smile that felt more like a grimace.

“In your dreams, subordinate,” she smirked. He relaxed, the grin spreading wider, more naturally. “If I was an assassin I wouldn’t be crazy enough to try and strike a deal with an officer in the first place.” 

“Oh is that so! Says the one desperate enough to agree to my terms.”

“I am  _ not _ desperate,” she scoffed, crossing her arms indignantly, trying to hide another grin. 

“I don’t need your ability to tell the most obvious of lies-” he crooned, “We were both very desperate.”

“Oh fine. But you were  _ more  _ desperate.” She raised a brow, challenging him, smirking. The calm before the storm. 

“Uh huh, whatever you say, darling,” He retorted, allowing himself to take in a deep, luxuriously breath, and exhaled softly, smiling gently as he asked, “Shall we?”

Her smirk grew into a wide grin as she laughed at his snarky remark, the sound bright and lovely in a way that made him think, just for a moment, in the eye of the hurricane, that perhaps there was, in fact, a chance at forgiveness. 

“Yes, I think we shall, before it’s morning and the APD wonders where the hell we were.”

“Spending a romantic night with the uh, how did kym put it “hot new archivist” under the moonlight, what else?”

“I swear to god if you tell anyone at the APD that I  _ will  _ kill you,” She remarked.

“I would expect nothing less.”

And from there, everything went horribly, _horribly_ wrong.

* * *

In the midst of their mission, Kieran caught a glimpse of gold, a signature blade that could only belong to one person, Kieran pausing mid-retort. “Lauren,” he warned, stiffening. “What,  _ subordinate _ ?” She growled, turning around, wind whipping her hair to the side, eyes glowing like a golden flame daring to burn anyone who come near.

A single cut of the blade would leave the person to die a very painful death…

And a quick one.

He couldn’t fight off Belladona and defend himself and Lauren at the same time from a single cut of the blade.

“Run,” he whispered.

“What?! No!” 

“My, my, I never thought you were one to flee a fight,  _ Kieran,”  _ a voice purred from above them.

The two of them whirled around.

Belladona smirked, perched on top of a roof slightly elevated from their spot on a lower rooftop below, tilting her head to the side, peering down at them, pink curls dangling down, her amber colored eyes flashing. “How delicious. What a dysfunctional yet dynamic duo. I figured you’d be foolish enough to try something this .. scandalous, to take down the leader, but _this_ , this is _rich_.”

She leered at both of them, stunned into silence, before continuing, "Oh,  an old friend filled me in on the details, and let’s just say I was very pleased to know that both my target for my next mission and my  _ rival _ are both deciding to be little rebels in their own way under the alias of  _ Lune,”  _ she jeered.

Lauren gasped, stumbling back slightly.

“Lauren… is your target?” Kieran sputtered, shock displaying on his features, looking at Lauren, whose face betrayed no emotion but shock and fear.

“Yes, didn’t she tell you? My, my, keeping secrets. Such a _deadly_ mistake.” Kieran’s teeth gritted as he fought back his surprise, throwing a venomous look at Belladona. 

”I-" Lauren started, but Davenport cut her off, hissing, “Don’t interrupt me. Why yes, Kieran, Tim Sake ran into a little altercation with her, isn’t that right?”  


Lauren Sinclair seemed at a loss for words, and Kieran found he didnt know what to say, either.

”Timmy, Timmy. Such an incompetent fool, leaving me to clean up all his mistakes, but such fun to play with,” she bared her teeth in a smile, “But don’t worry, I’ll keep your little secret, it’s much more entertaining to turn you into my little puppet, mister p.h., considering all the punishments you’d have to face otherwise, oh no. We don’t want that, no. Don’t you worry. Close your eyes if you don’t want to see your precious partner… taken care of. And trust in me,” she emphasized the s, hissing in almost a snakelike fashion, dropped from the rooftop, stepping closer, closer, sauntering as if the rooftop were her stage and they were but lowly audience members, studying her nails before her eyes sparked, grinning and flipping out her golden viper coated blade, the gold glinting as she said, “but- if you prefer, please do entertain me. I’ll give you two seconds to run.” 

They didn’t need a second invitation.

Kieran spun on his heel, shouting “split up, she can’t take us both at once!-”

“You underestimate me, Kieran,” Belladonna called in a sing song voice as the two scaled down the side of a roof, getting to their feet. 

“No, I’m not leaving you,” Lauren shouted _back_ , taking his hand in hers, eyes locking with his before she nodded firmly. “Sinclair, stubborn to the end,” he growled, but it was founded on concern, not frustration. He couldn’t afford to think of the secrets she had kept from him, he could only think of how they needed to stay alive.

They ran off into the night, footsteps in tandem, Belladona hunting them down, silent as a serpent ready to strike, turning their strife into sport.

“Oh so synchronized, and so very  _ sentimental,”  _ Bella hissed, following them through the dark corners of Greychapel, a blade whooshing as it almost nicked Kieran’s ear before stabbing into the stones by his boot, a warning. He ducked down, freeing the blade from the stones, continuing on. 

Kieran released Lauren’s hand to spin around, throwing the dagger at Bella, who caught it and spun it back at him. Lauren jumped up, catching the blade and landed, rolling before getting to her feet, running alongside Kieran and tossing his dagger back to him. She whirled, shooting at Davenport, once, twice, the gunshots ricocheting off of the cobblestones and brick. 

Davenport dodged into an alleyway, all but disappearing, and Lune fell against each other, back to back, weapons at the ready.  _ Deja vu,  _ Kieran reminisced, his katana out and ready as Lauren reloaded her gun. Except this time they were dealing with a trained assassin who could kill them with a cut, not a bunch of dumb mercenaries with minimal skill.

A knife embedded in the ground with a whoosh, drawing their attention, distracting Kieran, but Lauren saw a glint of gold against steel and a wicked glint in Belladonna’s eyes as she flung her weapon, aiming for Kieran’s head.

“Kieran look out!” Lauren shouldered him out of the way, and the blade zipped by, slashing open a gash on Lauren’s shoulder before embedding into the ground by her boot. Lauren cried out, crumpling to her knees, and Kieran whirled around, eyes wide in horror.

“No, no, no-” he moaned, eyes murderously returning to the rooftops.

“Hahaha, sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t stay for the show! See you around, Mister P.H.,” the snake snickered before taking off, Belladonna’s receding laughter drifted through the streets, but she disappeared from sight in a matter of moments. “You b*tch-” Kieran swore, helplessly looking back at Lauren, who was grabbing her shoulder, pupils dilated, blood trickling down, eyes rimming in red as the poison spread through her. “No-” he whispered,  _ he couldn’t lose her, he couldn’t lose her-  _

Lauren sputtered, “The blade is coated in golden venom viper.... kills in a matter of ... oh…” Lauren’s head spun, dizzied. He lifted her to her feet, eyes darting around her figure. What was he going to  _ do-  _ **_focus, Kieran, focus-_ **

“Come on,” determination lit up his eyes, burning alongside the fear and panic that surged throughout him. He needed to get her to a hospital, a clinic, a doctor, anywhere, anyone, he needed to find  _ the antidote-  _

_ “ **You’re going to be ok.”** _

She flinched, and he knew it must’ve registered as a lie, for there was no way he could promise her that. 

“I’m going to save you,” he tried again, trying not to let her see how powerless, how helpless he felt in that moment, tears blurring his vision. “I _have_ to save you,” _Or I’ll never forgive myself, and I’ll have hurt you again and it’ll all have been my fault._

Her golden eyes flickered with a glimpse of hope, and in that moment he would burn down this whole damn city if he had to if it meant he could save Lauren, if there was a singular chance he was telling the truth. 

“If I don’t make it-“ she coughed, a bit of blood dribbling down her lip, but was silenced by the fierce look in his eyes.

“You  _ will _ make it, you hear me? If you go down, I go down, _remember_?” His voice broke. “We go down together or we don’t go down at all. I’m not leaving y-” and then her lips were on his, and he didn’t know up from down, the world spinning and all logic distorting as her hands grabbed onto either side of his head, desperately pulling him closer, Kieran giving an agonized groan against the metallic tang of blood on her tongue, the salt from their tears mixing on their lips, blood from her palm from pressing into the wound staining his hair as her hand tanged in his onyx locks, tugging him down, their lips forced together in a kiss surging with a thousand emotions all at once, fueled by the fear that this would be the last time- He stiffened slightly as his senses started to trickle back, afraid, trying to pull back, his lips gentle, delicate, afraid, but she growled into the kiss and he found himself holding her tighter, arms wrapping around her, holding her closer, not knowing if this was the last moment he’d ever get to remember of her before she-

_ No.  _ He tilted his head, drowning himself in another kiss, quick, fast, fierce, before his lips left hers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I-, I don’t- I-"

She was dying, she was dying, she was going to die if he didn’t get her to an antidote in time, she was going to _die_ -

_  
No _ . 

**No** .

**_Not like this._ **

_ I love you,  _ he wanted to say. He said, “I’m not going to lose you,” instead, his electric eyes burning with newfound intensity. 

{I kept the first for another day}

He pulled away from her, and her knees buckled, weakened by the poison, eyes flickering in confusion. “I have an idea,” he repeated, gently grabbing her wrist and slinging her arm over his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around her waist. “Come on, you can do this, we can do this, we’ll get through this, together,” he rasped, not sure if he was saying this for her or for himself. Since they were in greychapel... how long would it take to get to Hemlock’s apothecary? It would be enough time. It had to be. Rosenthal and him had... a history, to say in the least, but he would do anything to save Lauren, and desperate times called for desperate measures. “Kieran,” she rasped. “Shh, I got you-” 

{Yet knowing how way leads on to way}

They staggered through the streets, Kieran trying to navigate his way through the dark alleyways, trying to calm the pounding of his heart and the way Lauren’s feet dragged slightly on the pavement, her head starting to slump. "Almost there...” 

{I doubted if I should ever come back.}

He spotted the sign with the snakes and the white rose, eyes drifting over the wings before he veered into the narrow alleyway, Lauren beside him. Kieran approached the entrance to the Ivory Rose Apothecary, his fist knocking hard on the door, supporting Lauren, one of her arms slung around his shoulders, his other arm holding her waist as her knees buckled, eyes flickering, dimming, sputtering “W-where are we-“ 

{I shall be telling this with a sigh}

“Shh, save your breath, mon amour,” he said softly, rapping his fist against the door again, a few curls that escaped from the white ribbon tying back his raven black hair falling in his face as he snarled, "HEMLOCK! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!”

{Somewhere ages and ages hence}

Lauren shuddered against him, flinching at his tone, and coughed out blood, the sound wracking him to the bone as she doubled over, coughing again and again. 

{Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—}

“I’m sorry,” Kieran hissed, fighting back tears as he staggered back a step, still supporting Lauren, feeling her slowly go limp against him, the fight dying out of her. He should’ve gone to a different place, a real hospital, he should’ve never made this deal, Lauren was going to die and it was all his fault. "I’m so sorry,” he choked out, shoulders slumping, head bowing in defeat. He didn’t know what to do, the poison would kill Lauren in a matter of minutes-

{I took the one less traveled by}

He never had much hope for redemption or a life lived better, no, but Lauren Sinclair was a beacon of life he wished would be there forevermore, burning evermore, not destined to have a flame that would simply be snuffed out, extinguished by an executioner like Belladona. In the deafening silence of the night, the moon seemed to dim its light as Lauren whispered "I’m sorry too,” and as if the silver eyed and tongued serpent with scales of snow heard the raven at the door crying Nevermore, the door swung open. 

{And that has made all the difference.}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a headcannon of Dylan and Belladona having coffee together in the morning they discussed the plan to ambush Lauren and Kieran, and basically spilling all the tea/expressing their mutual annoyance at the PH and both Bella AND Dylan being total divas about it so that’s that.


	3. Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poem reference: “Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day” (Sonnet 18) by Shakespeare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lauren POV
> 
> Chapter’s Theme Song: Graveyard by Halsey
> 
> Shakespeare sonnets but make it  
> ✨ toxic ✨

**Chapter 3: Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day?**  
**Lauren**

{Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?}

Light poured in from the apothecary as the door opened, a figure stepping out, pale silver-white eyes shining, ivory curls spilling from underneath his cap, a wide grin on his face, teeth flashing, "How may I help y-“ his smile twisting into a scowl as he raised a brow, noticing Kieran. "Oh, it’s * _you_ *. You must be extremely desperate to come to me at this hour of the ni-“

His scowl faded into an expression of shock someone else may have thought was feigned, but weighed down by the poison infecting her veins, she thought it was an expression of the most genuine concern in the world as his eyes snapped to her, lips parting in shock, the words dying on his lips. 

"Help her, Hemlock,” Kieran pleaded. Lauren had never heard him sound so ... desperate. He did whatever it took to get what he wanted, even making a deal with the likes of her those many days ago, even though he followed a strict set of morals to keep him sane, but * _still_ *, he didn’t beg, the only sort of exception for that being when he seemed almost submissive when she cornered him in the precinct, or when he offered some solace to ease her pain in cohorts with the apology he offered in the closet of the Carmine Camelia. Her attention was ripped away from Kieran as she looked at Dylan, almost glowing in a ghostlike, fashion, shuddering. It was all too much, and it was impossible. Just another one of her delusional dreams...

A bitter tear slipped down her cheek as her eyes closed, letting out a strangled cry, shuddering again, a fragment of the scream that had torn her to shreds as she doubled over as a little girl, guilt crashing into her like a tidal wave as she stared at the ruins of the allendale train station, as she focused on the cap that rested in the debris, as she sobbed and fell apart and had been trying to piece herself together ever since, a fox chasing an imaginary white hare that was always out of reach, daring to dance with ravens and daring to do anything to absolve herself of all the regrets and guilt that plagued her every day. 

Her life must’ve been slipping away, * _that’s_ * why he was here, welcoming her to the world of eternal dreams. He held his hand out to her, sputtering, “L-Lauren?!”

A dream, a dream once again. Catch me if you can. A white haired boy with a patched cap playfully prancing away in the undergrowth of starlit trees, and she chased after him freely, footsteps light, finally at peace as their hands intertwined, but this time, she didn’t wake up from the dream. 

A sharp intake of breath by her blue eyed companion, and she opened her eyes, fixating them on the ground, more tears falling down her face, choking on a sob, blood spilling down her lip and dripping onto the floor. "I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” she whispered, shaking her head as she rasped, “I’m sorry I never found the answers for you... but no matter what I do... this feeling of guilt never leaves me...”   
  
"What happened to her?!” Dylan snarled.

Kieran’s eyes were wide, looking so utterly confused and lost, horrified at the broken, shattered husk that remained of Lauren Sinclair as she went limp, forcing Kieran to support her entire body weight, his arm tightening around his waist. 

“....D-Dylan?” She rasped, vision blurring over, supported by Kieran’s arm around her waist. Could he really be here? Or was it just a doctor, disfigured by her own delusion that she thought, just for a moment-

“It’s me,” he whispered, eyes wavering, reaching out for her, but Kieran wrenched her back, baring his teeth, “Stay away from her.” 

" _Dylan_ ,” she whispered again, looking up, a warm glow illuminating his figure, engulfed in the emotion shimmering in his silver grey eyes, the * _life_.* 

{Thou art more lovely and more temperate.}

All but smoke and mirrors. All an illusion, for there was no way this wasn’t just a dream. 

“At least I got to find you, in the end,” she rasped, before her vision spotted with golden stars and the bells marking her imminent end tolled and rang with the birdsong of her blood rushing in her ears, and her eyes shut, preparing every breath she took as if it would be her last. “I’ll see you on the other side,” she whimpered. Kieran’s fingers curled against her waist fighting back tears as he hissed, "We’re running out of time.”

Dylan scoffed, rolling his eyes as he glared at Kieran, distaste of the man obvious as he growled, "No sh*t, Sherlock." 

If she could read minds, she would’ve understood why Kieran’s eyes narrowed with hatred, why he had so much hostility when he said, “This was a mistake, I should’ve never brought you here, to * _him_ *. If you don’t let me into your damn apothecary, I’ll rip the antidote off of your corpse, Hemlock-“ why he snarled out the last word, why the title of the poisonous flower easily rolled off of his tongue instead of the name she knew her old childhood friend by. Her eyes fluttered open, lost in the fury, concern, and irritation waging war on Dylan’s features, his eyes flashing from Kieran to her. 

"Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. "She’s poisoned, and from the bloodied tears dripping down her face, the bloody coughs, and the neat slash on her shoulder, I can tell it’s some variation of Davenport’s work. She’s lucky she’s still alive, it must’ve been some sort of diluted poison, bring her in, quickly, now."

Kieran’s arm stiffened around her waist, but he trudged forward, her feet dragging on the ground, Dylan stepping forward and offering to help. 

“Don’t touch her,” Kieran growled.

{Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.}

Was this a deceitful dream once more? Why was it so.. vivid? She was engulfed in the scene in her subconscious, playing over again on repeat, not hearing the way Dylan sneered with a smug glint to his eyes, "If it was anyone else, Purple Hyacinth, I would’ve made you beg for that antidote.”

“If I beg will you shut up?” He snapped. “If your antidote doesn’t work I’ll tear you limb from limb until YOU’RE the one groveling and begging for my mercy, and I won’t even bother putting a purple hyacinth on your lifeless husk,” Kieran growled.

“Mm, it’s refreshing seeing you so desperate, assassin, but I confess I share the same sentiment towards this particular patient,” Dylan said, breath hitching as his eyes passed over Lauren. “Hurry.” 

She didn’t hear any of it, no, just a snippet of two as the world dissolved in and out of focus, dimly registered the glittering jars of different solutions, flowers, black bookshelves, a thousand different things flickered and out of focus, in, out, the dream engulfing her again.

_Birdsong filtered through the trees as light gently illuminated her dreams, a feeling of happiness and content, “Catch me if you can!” again and again and again. Looped laughter, running as if she were free, as if she were alive, but never going anywhere at all._

This felt nothing like that, yet when her eyes opened again, all she could see was * _him_ *, a white rose with luxurious, perfect petals, beckoning her into an “operation room” he said, opening a door, Kieran panting from the exertion of sprinting into the rooftops to evade Belladonna and carrying her weight around Greychapel, but his exhaustion not hindering his actions, only fueling him as he trudged forward. 

{And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.}

Kieran helped her in, setting her down gently on a marble slab that Dylan mentioned was his examining table, a shadow forgotten in the light of the sun, his hands soft as feathers around her waist, aquamarine eyes gazing deep into hers, filled with an agonized mix of panic and pain. 

Her golden eyes, drifting from Kieran’s and away, dimly registered the nearly filed bottles every which way, bundles of flowers and concoctions of all sorts neatly filed on black shelves, a few books stored away in them as well. Some black and white photographs of birds and flowers and snakes were framed on the walls, photographs Dylan had signed himself. “Lauren, _listen_ to me-“ Kieran whispered, leaning in, his lips brushing her ear gently sounding desperate, sounding afraid, her head throbbing as she groaned from the pain of the poison coursing through her, pulse racing. Her eyes fixated on Dylan, who walked into the room, disinfecting his hands with some sort of chemical solution he labeled hand sanitizer, taking off his cap, setting it on a table as he started rapidly flipping through a catalogue, eyes flicking down to the page and then flashing back up to hers, finger trailing the words as he muttered, “Golden oleander, green viper, ah, golden-“ 

“You can’t trust-“ Kieran sputtered, speaking so quickly her head spun even more-

“Is this all a Dream?” She murmured, cutting him off as she slumped down, hands gripping the edge of the elevated marble counter, sitting on the edge of it even though Kieran was trying to gently lay her down, waving him away. “Or am I already dead... Wait- no, I’ve been looking for you... for years... oh Dylan...” her eyes focused on his wistfully, Kieran forgotten in the wake of her confusion. “If you’re alive... how can you be alive-“ she wasn’t thinking straight, she finally had answers but she couldn’t think, she could only feel the agony tearing into every fiber of her being, screaming as blood started to trickle from her eyelids, tongue heavy and coated with her own blood-

Blue eyes flashed to silver-grey, and she looked up, head spinning, her blood surging with irritation. Kieran and Dylan were glaring at each other, but a smug look crossed over Dylan’s features, twisting his lips up into a smirk. "She trusts me, don’t you Lauren?” Kieran didn’t move away from her, glowering at him. 

She nodded, even though she wasn’t so sure, she was confused, but she needed answers. "How could I be so blind... You’re alive, you’re really alive, unless you’re not and I’m even more blind, I- ah”,” she whispered before she coughed again, eyes flickering, a thousand thoughts running through her head, a thousand emotions shining in her eyes, Kieran recoiling slightly at her reaction in her periphery, but she disregarded her partner in the light of her long lost friend, eyes fixated on his features, his silver eyes and crown of ivory hair, his perfectly patched hat, the easy smirk playing on his lips. 

"Unless you intend to waste my time and risk her dying even faster, which is something we both don’t want, I’ll inspect her for a moment before I get her the antidote.” Kieran didn’t budge.

“Come on, she’s dying, dammit,” Dylan snarled, and Kieran seemed to come to his senses as he backed up a step, and then another. 

He shifted into the shadows in the far side of the room, allowing Dylan to examine her quickly, his eyes flickering as he checked her pulse, her heart pounding as his thumb pressed gently against the inside of her wrist, his silver eyes flickering with a hint of curiosity in the depth of their concern, and then nodded, turning to look at Kieran, who was sulking in the corner but refused to leave the room, eyebrows furrowed, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed. * _He’s tense_ * she noted, but couldn’t even fathom why. “Yep. Golden viper venom. Diluted. Still extremely powerful, but lucky for you I have the antidote in stock.” 

“What is this place, Dylan? Where have you been all these years?” She sputtered, holding a hand to her throat as she started coughing again, the pain of each cough wracking her, blood spurting from her mouth, survival instinct taking control. _Save me, please._ Rage, rage, against the dying of the light-

Kieran’s eyes flashed with panic, and Dylan lurched forward, holding a finger to her lips and holding out a hand, eyes wide and afraid. "Shh, shh, save your breath, we’re running out of time-“ He checked his watch, swearing under his breath and then turned, walking over to one of the shelves, examining them, pacing back and forth as his eyes scanned the contents.

“What’s the name of the antidote? I can help you find it-“ Kieran snapped, getting impatient and walking over to him.

“Ha-Ha, very funny hyacinth, nice try-“ 

“You know who he is?” Lauren rasped, finally registering that fact too. 

Dylan nodded, but growled, “I wish we never met.” Kieran flinched, and Lauren shook her head as the world distorted, her hands stained with her own blood as she pressed her hands to her mouth, coughing again, her shoulder screaming in pain.

“Let me do something, _anything_ ,” Kieran gritted out, hands curling into fists, “You’re so damn slow it’s a miracle she’s not dead already.”

“If you didn’t insist on interrupting me ever two minutes perhaps I’d already be done,” Dylan sneered, but the smug glint in his eyes was quickly overtaken with an intense, unreadable expression, "Also, according to my calculations she has approximately 100 seconds left before the full effect of the poison takes over and it’s too late. If you want to be *useful*,” he spat, “Why don’t you go pick up some hyacinths for later in the greenhouse and get her some bandages for her shoulder while you’re at it,” he said, starting to rummage through a few of the poison antidotes on one of the shelves. Kieran scowled deeper, bristling, looking at Lauren, and then at him.

“I want to stay with her,” he snapped, even though he was already outside the room, hands fidgeting.

“I’ll... be ... okay,” Lauren managed, but she wasn’t so sure. Kieran’s lips parted as he faltered, taking in her broken, vulnerable state, true fear flashing in his eyes. “Lauren, I-“ he started. 

"You’ll throw off my focus. Now get out,” Dylan said, walking over from the shelves, two jars secured in his hand, in a few swift strides and slamming the door in Kieran’s face. “Ugh, idiot.” He turned, grabbing a vial and extracting a little bit of each jar into the vial using a pipette, swirling its contents and setting down the rest of his materials before walking over to her, the glittering silvery solution in the vial looking so similar to mercury she eyed it warily. 

He lifted her chin slightly, lifting the vial to her lips, and it was too close, too close to his hand being around her throat, and her hand seized his wrist painfully in a fraction of a second, mustering up enough strength to snarl, “W-What are you doing?” She was shaking, eyes wide with defensive fury. 

“Defiant until the end,” he sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, swallowing hard, mirroring the look she had given him earlier, the look of finding a long lost friend after fighting so hard to find them again, but she couldn’t even imagine the pain he must be in to see her like this, on the fringe of death, hanging on a thread, her life depending on him and him alone, wondering underneath all of that if she had remembered him, if he had remembered her, and for a moment they forgot about the raven knocking at the door, crying nevermore forevermore, instead looking at each other as if their future with each other was evermore. 

“I’m * _trying_ * to cure you,” he said, eyes narrowed as she eyed him suspiciously, pulse fluttering in her throat. It wasn’t a lie. But why did she feel on edge-

“Let me help you, Lauren.” He pressed the vial into her hand and stepped away, raising her hands, eyebrows furrowed with concern, biting his lower lip as he checked his watch, a newfound fear lighting up in his silver irises. “Please, _Ren_.” 

She faltered, eyes widening, a flicker of hope igniting the flame in her heart as the word echoed in her head, the birds singing it sweetly as they danced around in the dawn. _Ren, Ren, Ren...._ The familiarity of her nickname on his lips came crashing into her, the explosions and the fire and the train station fading away, only leaving a meadow of flowers and stars and dreams of youth, a dream to be police officer alongside a doctor in the world, a dream to save people, together, a dream to find each other, a dream to save each other, but in the meadow, the time was ticking, a golden watch with a silver minute hand, going 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5-

“Bottoms up,” she muttered, eyes averting away from him. 

4, 3, 2-

She lifted the vial to her lips, tilting it back, wincing as the liquid singed her throat slightly, a drop falling on her lip. The countdown halted abruptly, everything seeming to slow... just... for a moment... leaving only the two of them suspended in the spanning space of the second that could’ve separated them. She swallowed, and for a brief moment, a hungry look sparked in his silver eyes, and his smile faded, eyes flickering, lips parting slightly. Time stopped. She licked it off, and Dylan’s eyes tracked the movement of her tongue running down her lip, looking starved, looking * _ravenous_ *, but also still looking slightly scared. 

{Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines.}

"Dylan?” She started, eyebrows furrowing as she pursed her lips, confusion evident on her face. “The antidote will kick in a minute or two, but it should’ve stopped the internal bleeding already,” he said quickly, averting his gaze.

He turned away, quickly going to a storage closet and opening the door, coming out with a roll of bandages, disinfectant wipes, and a linen shirt. 

He walked over to her, a cotton towel in slung over his shoulder, tugging on some gloves. 

"I thought you sent Kieran to get bandages,” she rasped.

”I needed an excuse to get him away from me. He was throwing off my focus, and plus he and I have a ...history. I’ll explain in a moment, Ren.” He said, setting down the materials on the bloodstained counter, taking off the towel and cleaning off the blood from her chin, gently wiping it off of her, her arms shaking slightly as she supported herself, shifting so she was sitting more upright. “We both have had quite the share of secrets over the years, haven’t we,” he smiled. “La Lune," he shook his head, laughing softly.

Lauren frowned, the metallic taste of blood bitter on her tongue, looking down, rubbing her throat absentmindedly as she sighed, closing her eyes as the pain subsided to a dull throb, the antidote beginning to kick in. 

"Hemlock, Huh?” she murmured.

" _Dr._ Hemlock,” he said softly, “This is my apothecary... but you were right, in the end. I did kill more people than I could save...” her eyes widened. "I... just ... can I be Dylan Rosenthal again, just for right now? You’re the only one- who-I-" his lip quivered and he bit down on it, looking up at her and then away, as if disgusted with himself, as if ashamed.

“I understand,” She said. He nodded soundlessly. 

He gently removed her jacket from her shoulders, pushing her shirt sleeve back up and lifting her arm delicately, wrapping the bandage around her shoulder once, twice, thrice, and then tying it off. “The slash is small and shallow, the bandages will do but if it continues bleeding I’ll stitch it up afterwards." He stepped away, taking off his gloves and tossing them into a waste bin. He frowned thoughtfully at something, and made a small “mm” of affirmation before walking over to her, a bundle of fabric in his hands, a neatly folded linen shirt. 

“Here,” he handed her the new shirt. “Can you manage?”

She nodded.

“Figures,” he murmured, suppressing a smile. “But seriously, if you need help, only ask.”

"I’m fine,” she said, eyes flashing, throat raw.

"Alright, one moment, let me get you some water, and I’ll allow you a moment of privacy,” he dipped his head.

“So courteous,” she retorted.

He smiled sadly before stepping out of the room, saying softly, “My father used to say it made men charming.” 

She instantly regretted it.

The door clicked shut and she winced, her shoulder aching as she tugged her bloodstained shirt over her head, arms shaking as she slipped on the new shirt, almost collapsing from the effort, a bead of sweat trickling down her brow. 

* _Perfect fit.._.*

It wasn’t one of his shirts, it fit to her frame perfectly, almost as if it was designed for her.

Don’t be ridiculous, Lauren, she scolded herself, pressing a palm to her head as it throbbed fully. The reeling shock from all the events that had befallen her in the last 24 hours alone, paired with the sleep deprivation was seriously starting to get to her head.

She quickly disregarded her confusion, passing it off as some sort of coincidence, moving onto the next thing. 

Dylan was * _alive_.* What was he doing here? Kieran and him clearly knew each other, and Hemlock knew he was the purple hyacinth, which would be extremely problematic. Even though she trusted Dylan, she didn’t know what he had gotten himself into, and she could only deduce he was working for the phantom scythe... in this... apothecary, he said..

Her eyes scanned her surroundings, purely analytical, tossing her conflicting emotions to the side before they all came crashing back. An apothecary.. he had extensive knowledge of poisons and their antidotes, surely that would be useful... and Hemlock was a type of poisonous flower... odd, she always thought of him more like a white rose. His last name was Rosenthal, after all. She couldn’t fathom why Kieran and Dylan seemed to hate each other so much, couldn’t begin to accept the fact that the key to finding Dylan all this time had been through Kieran, if only she had told him, perhaps they could’ve met again on better circumstance... but if he knew she was alive, why didn’t he ever reach out to her? What happened the day of the allendale train station? What had changed?... and why did Belladonna use a diluted solution of the golden viper? * _I’ll keep your little secret_.* _and,_ as if _that_ wasn’t enough, Belladona had known Kieran’s real name- 

  
_Focus on one thing at a time, Lauren._

Golden viper was expensive, and it killed extremely effectively. It’s almost as she wanted to keep her alive long enough for-

No. She shoved the thought away. 

She buried her face between her hands, resting her elbows on her knees as she learned over, taking a deep breath in, and then out. She was being targeted by Belladonna Davenport, who also knew her and Kieran were Lune, who could easily blackmail Kieran into- no, he wouldn’t-

* _I will not cause you more harm than I already did. I sincerely mean it._ ” Even against orders he wouldn’t-

Her thoughts snapped away from Kieran and back to Dylan as the white crowned boy walked back into the room, smiling to himself, bringing in a glass of water with a daisy decorating it. “They’re still your favorite, right?” He asked sheepishly. 

She smiled, and then laughed, the sound lighting up his eyes as he beamed, grinning, cheek dimpling slightly. “Come here,” She called, and he obliged, setting down the cup of water first, her arms wrapping around him, his arms around her, the two of them engulfed in a warm hug. “I missed you so much,” she whispered, and he held her tighter, tugging her closer. “Me too.” She flinched as pain shot through her shoulder, and he pulled away quickly, hands on her waist, steadying her. She was abruptly reminded of Kieran, and her joy faded just a bit. Where * _was_ * he? He seemed so reluctant to leave her side, she thought he’d be back by now. Not that she didn’t trust Dylan right now, but without realizing it, she had begun to depend on Kieran, and the lack of his presence hollowed her out more than the return of Dylan’s could compensate for. 

“You should rest,” Dylan said, rolling back his sleeves to reveal toned but slender arms as he fumbled with his hands. “It’s not exactly the most comfortable here, but I can get you some pillows and blankets and, ahh, I don’t know, we can figure something out. It’s too dangerous at this hour of the night, even though that hasn’t exactly stopped you before, but you’re in no state to be parkouring all over Ardhalis, especially if you had Belladona on your trail-“

She nodded as she lifted the cup to her lips, taking a deep gulp of the cool liquid, sighing as it parched her throat, tuning out the almost soothing drone of Dylan’s voice. It was a bit softer, a bit deeper, a bit more sharp in the way it sounded as if he knew exactly what he was talking about to the point it was almost hypnotic, and she was pretty sure if she didn’t have her lie detecting ability he probably would’ve been able to persuade her to do anything. She leaned towards the sound of his voice slightly, looking up from the daisy, her thumb brushing over the petals softly before she set the cup of water down after draining it of its contents. She suddenly felt a bit drowsy, and she licked her lips, catching a fallen droplet on the corner of her mouth with her tongue. 

Dylan abruptly cut off from whatever he was saying, eyes fixated on her mouth as she looked back up at him, suddenly tense, like a snake ready to strike, like a tightly wound coil ready to spring. His eyes flashed back up to hers, studying her, a sort of awed look in his eyes, finding herself leaning closer to him as he gazed upon her with reverence, a little bit of mischief in his eyes, as if he was about to let her in on a secret. 

“Dylan,” she repeated, pausing to yawn for a moment. “I’m going to need you to stop looking at me like that.”

{And often is his gold complexion dimm’d}

“Mm?” He raised a brow, lips pressing into a thin line, eyes fixating on her mouth again, cheeks flushing slightly, even though he dared to inquire innocently in a not-so-innocent fashion, “Like what?”

{And every fair from fair sometimes declines}

“Like that.” Her eyes turned fierce, and the fire in his eyes intensified tenfold as they met hers again. * _I swear if he calls my eyes pensive I’m just going to ask belladonna to stab me again and do it right this time*_ she thought to distract herself from the way her heart skipped a beat. 

“Or what?” he challenged, running a hand through his white curls and leaning closer. It was weirdly jarring seeing him without his cap, which he had put somewhere near the door. He was more vivid, more real, and experiencing him as an adult instead of the playful boy from her memories and dreams left her in a somewhat dazed state of awe, but the familiarity of a challenge sparked her internal flame back to life. 

"Oh I don’t know. Maybe I’ll shoot you,” she smirked, leaning on an elbow and running a hand through her own hair, looking down and then back up at him, grinning, teeth flashing, golden eyes sparking. 

{Thy eternal summer shall not fade.}

"Beautiful,” he whispered, a grin splitting across his face, but then another mischievous glint lit up in his irises set in starry silver, "* _ **Oh I was talking about the color of the the serum I used in your antidote, not you.”**_ * 

{Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st...}

She laughed at the lie, the rolling her eyes and then grinning. “You haven’t changed one bit.” He shifted closer, and her breath caught as she looked at his crooked smile, his eyes flicking from her mouth back up to her golden gaze. His smile faded slowly into something much more solemn.

{So long lives this...}

“I dreamed... I dreamed so much of when I would get to speak with you again... even if you had forgotten me, the things I would’ve done, just for a minute of your time,” he gritted out. He was fidgeting with his hands, and she noticed that she hadn’t gotten a good look at the fingers on his right hand, which he kept hiding from sight, and the odd way in which he held everything confused her slightly, but she didn’t pay much mind to it.

If only she knew..if only she had heeded Kieran’s warning..Perhaps everything would’ve been different, but she was blinded by the sun, his crown of white curls seeming to glow in the dim light as he got even closer, hesitating, hovering, a bit of fear flickering in his eyes for a moment, and it was _intoxicating_. 

"I dreamed of the day I would see you again, I hoped with every fiber of being that you were alive, even when nothing was left, I-"

{And this gives life to thee...}

"I thought of you every day you were gone, I looked for you wherever I walked, I worshipped you,” Dylan whispered. She didn’t know whether it was drowsiness or desire that made her golden eyes go half lidded, looking up at him dreamily, hungrily. “I worship you,” he corrected breathlessly. He looked away, backed away just a bit, "W-when the phantom scythe beat me down to a husk of who I was...” he lifted his hand, trembling slightly, her eyes widening as she examined the severed finger. He glared over his shoulder, and then looked back at her.

”When * _he_ * did this to me,” he snarled, a fierce intensity to his eyes she had never seen before, “And I wanted nothing more than to die... I thought of you and wanted to live, to survive... if only it would mean I could see you one last time... if only I could tell you how sorry I was every second I stayed away from you-“ a singular silver tear fell down his cheek, and he furiously wiped it away, stepping forward so he was even closer, standing so he was in between her knees, hips pressing against hers, hands planting on the bloodstained marble on either side of her. 

“Kieran-“ her eyes widened in horror, clapping a hand to her mouth. He nodded, one of his hands curling into a fist. 

"In time I’ll explain all of it,” Dylan murmured, “But right now, I.. I’ve had a long day, maybe some other time.. today’s been... rough.. worse for you no doubt, but-“

“I- I’m so s-"

" _No_ ,” his words were fierce and final. She flinched. "No more apologies. They’re useless,” he said, calmer. “And you... you have NOTHING to be sorry for.” 

“If I would’ve known... If I wasn’t so blind... so much has happened, Dylan- I have so many questions-" she said, trailing off, teeth gritting angrily, tears blurring her vision. He leaned forward, wiped a tear away, lifted her chin gently with a finger, staring deep into her eyes. 

“Then let’s worry about that tomorrow. I’ll answer as much as I can, I promise... just for tonight... stay... with me... please ...” His gaze turned desperate. Her gaze caught on fire. She slowly reached up, hand tangling in his curls, arm pulling him down so he was at her eye level, his head tilting to the side slightly as his eyes sparked, and she felt as if she was burning, burning, burning, consumed in the fire of desire, their lips inches apart, but she couldn’t help but feel something was off, the sun a bit too bright to see, a bit too blinding, a bit too much, and she hesitated. He looked starved, his hands gripping the side of the counter, leaning forward but neither of them closing the distance, eyes locked on hers. He was putting considerable restraint into this, and something that looked like guilt shimmered in his eyes. “You-y-you should rest,” he whispered, and he was so close she could feel his words against her lips, and he took a shaky breath, eyes flicking down to her mouth and then back up, “We shouldn’t- I-..”

She suddenly longed for an oasis in the desert, the deep abyss of sapphire blue eyes, the sea shining under the light of the moon, the intense tango she dared to dance with the assassin, the royal purple petals that apologized and begged forgiveness even though the man himself felt as if he never deserved it. Oh Kieran, she thought, as the ghost, Dylan Rosenthal, the boy she had suffered so much over, to finally be reunited with after all this time, hesitated, pupils dilated. 

Dylan’s frame was too slender, his skin too pale, hair too short, all the wrong color, the sound of his voice all different, perhaps if she could shut him up she could forget all about the conflict warring in her head, letting out a frustrated hiss, “Shut * _up_.*” He faltered, ensnared by the severity of her words, before she tugged his head down and kissed him, hard, envisioning an entirely different person in her grasp. She tugged him on top of her, and he shifted forward, grabbing into her thigh with his hand and wrenching her against him, her leg hooking over his hip. She groaned into his mouth, the sequence of events starting to blur, lost in the pleasure she was feeling warring with the confusion and internal conflict that was screaming for her to stop. To remember * _him_ * to remember the feel of their heated kiss, the reviving feeling of his lips on hers, the way he was like oxygen to fuel her fire, yet they balanced each other out like fire and rain, the way passion surged between them like a tidal wave, the satisfaction that followed like a rainstorm after a long drought, even though she was dying and the poison was trying to bring her to her knees, Kieran had made her feel alive, and feel so many more things in that moment in so many more ways than Dylan was making her feel now. Something was wrong, this was a mistake, but yet she couldn’t move, immobilized like a cardinal with a broken wing, a monarch butterfly ensnared in a spider’s web, a fox trapped in a snake’s coils. 

She tried to remember, remember the assassin, no, the artist- 

The artist who sketched his soul with no hope of redemption, desperate to hold onto a sliver of his humanity, * _Kieran... Kieran White..._ * she had to stop, she was kissing the wrong man, she was only kissing an idea she thought she was in love with but instead it was intoxicating her, blinding her further, infecting her veins with a rush of adrenaline she thought was desire but instead was a repulsive desire to fight, fight, fight against the summer that was too overpowering, desiring for the winter to return, the comfort and mystery of the night and the raven who cawed at her door, but Dylan’s lips were overpowering against hers and she couldn’t tell right from wrong. He grabbed onto her injured shoulder, nails digging in, the pain causing her to cry out, but he muffled the sound with another consuming kiss, and she collapsed into it, moaning as his tongue tangled with hers, biting into his lower lip and tugging, pulling him closer. She was so tired, she could only succumb to the pleasure, and slowly her doubts and conflict started to ebb away as she drowned in the overpowering sensation of his cruel kiss. Gold and silver woven together, the blood red of her hair tarnishing both of them as it they shifted closer together, filling fantasies, products of their respective obsessions that should’ve felt so right, but instead felt far too bright. 

She lifted up on her elbows, having been relaxing back against the marble slab, perhaps if she could dominate one more demon of her life she could win, she could feel again, but as Dylan’s lips forced onto hers with more fervor, and his hand grabbed onto the front of her shirt, slamming her back down against the marble, it enveloped her, blinding her in a curtain of silver that she could find no way out of. He forced her back down onto the table, straddling her as he drowned her in every kiss, desperation stealing all her breath and leaving her gasping for air, wanting to stop, wanting to continue, craving more as if more of this could sate her, knowing deep down it never would, for the wildest of infernos were never satisfied, and she found herself desperate for a wave to crash down and remind her, remind her what it was like to feel alive, to feel human, but the shore was nowhere in sight, the tide was low, and the sun was burning, burning, consuming her and burning her until she dissolved into oblivion, overpowered and controlled by the star she had been chasing for ten years, even if deep down she ...knew ...the.. one ..she ..truly.. needed was...what was his name?.. Ki-... K... it evaded her, the only name in her mind not even being her own, just Dylan Rosenthal’s. 

He was possessing her, controlling her with every crushing, bruising kiss, pinning her down with his body weight as he shifted on top of her, as if he were trying to extinguish the fight out of her and fan the flames all the same. In a way, this was all a game to him, but he was enjoying the game too much, in a way ensnared by the rose colored lenses of his desire, both of them slaves to their own obsessions, her nails were thorns digging into his scalp, his arms were vines caging her in, he held all the strings but he was tangled in them himself, and he bit her lower lip, giving it a tug, almost as if he * _hated_ * it, almost as if he could never be satisfied himself, trying to claim the summer that would never last, kissing her as if he could control her forever, and in that moment, she wasn’t so sure she could resist, having been controlled by her desperation to find Dylan to absolve her of her guilt and regrets for so long that he had already succeeded in a way without manipulating her himself. Now that the twin flames of his desire and her own obsession melded into one, she had no choice but to submit and give into his passion, his possession, cursing under her breath. His lips left her mouth to kiss her neck, and she tried not to recoil, remembering the feeling of a hand choking her, suffocating her there. His teeth bit down into it and she tugged at his curls as if it were her anchor, gasping. He cursed, and his lips ghosted over the underside of her jaw. It was far too much. It wasn’t nearly enough. "Oh Dylan, please,” she breathed, not sure what she was begging for. Desperate, obsessive desire waged war with discordant, conflicting dissatisfaction. The rest was a blur of kisses and frantic motions. She bit his lip and gave it another frustrated tug when he called her “ _Ren_ ”, furious with how satisfying yet unsatisfying it was, when it should’ve been dreamlike. Perhaps she had only loved the idea of him, not the real thing, but she couldn’t stop now if she wanted to. No, the thing that stopped them was someone else entirely.

She didn’t hear the door open. She didn’t hear the sharp intake of breath by the doorway. Didn’t notice how Dylan stiffened ever so slightly for a fragment of a second before groaning and kissing her harder. 

If only she had opened her eyes, she could’ve seen the raven at the door, watching, eyes agonized, the tell-tale drum of his heartbeat muffled by the cotton bandages he had woven around his hands and his wrists to restrain himself, lingering in the doorway and watching as Hemlock severed the synchronized tether between La Lune, the sun blocking out the moon as he eclipsed his way between their hearts, ensnaring them both, as the white rose’s thorns suffocated all in the presence of his glory, a star allowed to shine too bright blocking out the elegant glow of the moon, Hemlock‘s pristine petals of white poisoning his prized possession with every brush of his lips, a white snake hypnotizing his victim and sinking his fangs in, and Kieran White could only watch as Lauren pulled him closer, blinded by the ivory petals of perfection his image commanded and not sensing the poison hidden underneath the surface of his skin. 

Instead, when she did open her eyes, her crown of crimson curls atop her head on display against the white marble, dizzied by the pleasure plaguing her, poisoning her, it was far too late, and she could only register the look of pure sadness and pain melded into a symphony of stunned, agonized shock, before Kieran turned on his heel and stormed out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw if you think Dylan spent hours practicing his shocked expressions in front of the mirror, figuring out how to dodge her lying ability, and even waited at the door for a few seconds listening to lauki before he opened the door just to make it more dramatic... you are absolutely right.
> 
> Also I had a headcannon that Dylan invented hand sanitizer in this because I didn’t know if the world of ph had it yet so *shrug*. Next chapter is Kieran POV and you’ll get to see his..personal take.. of the events >:)


	4. The Tell-Tale Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ch 4) Kieran POV
> 
> Chapter’s Theme Song: Control by Halsey
> 
> Literary Reference:
> 
> “The Tell Tale Heart” by Edgar Allen Poe

**_Chapter 4) The Tell Tale Heart_ **

**Kieran**

  
  


{Nervous... very, very dreadfully nervous}

Kieran seethed as Dylan slammed the door in his face, a cruel glint to his wicked eyes with their silver sheen. 

{The disease had sharpened my senses, not dulled them.}

His footsteps echoed down the hall as he quickly made his way to the greenhouse, stopping by a storage closet to grab some cotton bandages first, and then opening the door into the back of the apothecary, the light of the dawn beginning to trickle in, flowers, herbs, plants, of every different kind, blooming in brilliance and extending in every direction, grand windows on the ceiling allowing for sunlight, overhead lights dimming as the dawn provided the sunlight, the sunrise staining the petals of the flowers with different colors. He didn’t realize it was morning already. There were not any windows inside the apothecary itself, and his worrying over Lauren had made him lose track of time. It had sped up and slowed all at once, and it propelled his footsteps faster, made his eyes glance over the flowers he had seen so many times. 

_ {observe how healthily, how calmly I tell you the whole story} _

He paused, eyes flickering over a door he hadn’t noticed before in his many visits to Hemlock’s Greenhouse.

_ {It’s impossible to say how the idea first entered my brain} _

He passed it, trying not to indulge in the urge to unlock it, feeling as if something was horribly off with it, a sense of unease quickening his pulse, thinking of Lauren, near-lifeless and in Hemlock’s care, and she knew  _ him _ , she  _ knew _ him.

_ {once conceived, it haunted me day and night} _

How much about her had she kept from him?

Alas... it made sense. He was a monster.

Perhaps Hemlock would take better care of her, heal her when all he had managed to do was hurt her.

As Kieran passed the rows of flowers all arranged in perfect alphabetical order, perhaps if he had paid better attention he would’ve noticed that the daisies far outnumbered the dahlias and daffodils, or that later down the row of flowers that white and red roses took up more space than the entirety of the non poisonous non-daisy flowers combined. 

The rest were mostly poisonous or for medicinal or herbal purposes, mixing in antidotes and powerful poisons ranging from the slowest, most painful deaths to the swiftest silencers and sedatives. 

He should’ve felt serene surrounded by the comfort of flowers but something, something made him walk faster, hastened his steps as he entered the H section of the Greenhouse. “Hydrangeas.. Hibiscus, ah, Hyacinths...” he hummed to himself, frowning at the purple petals, so used to seeing them stained with the blood of his victims. His eyes dimmed as he picked up a few prepped bundles already cut and tied together for him, a “P.H.” label on the gold ribbon tying the flowers together. Kieran gritted his teeth, glowering at the gold ribbon. Always mocking him...always... he remembered when he used to train with Belladona Davenport and Dylan. Every single time Kieran would knock him down, a murderous look would cloud over Dylan’s cold silver eyes.

_ {I think it was his eye} _

He tucked the flowers into his coat and tugged off his gloves. 

The older members of the phantom scythe used to laugh at how weak Dylan was, while giving a nauseating amount of praise to Kieran. Belladona had to fight hard to win her spotlight, while Kieran had tried to shrink away from it, only trying to survive, not expecting to be so skilled in fighting. While Dylan festered and grew furious with the scorn placed upon him, Kieran had gotten lost in his rivalry with Belladona to pay much attention to how the ghost of their little training trio faded away into a sinister specter who instead decided to specialize in the subtlest of ways to kill... poisons.. 

Along with manipulation... coercion, and being a skilled practitioner in blackmail. 

Arguably, one of the most dangerous and effective fields... sure, a messy bloodbath surely sent a strong message, he knew well enough, he reminisced, remembering scrubbing his hands of the blood on them for hours on end until his hands bled from the chafing on his skin, remembering trying desperately to draw but the pencil only shaking in his hand, his hands who had killed so many, Kieran’s eyes dimming as he shuddered. 

["If I was as good as a ...fighter.. as you,” Dylan had once said, in the final days of training before they’d be forced to make their first kill. They were in one of the gardens that surrounded this particular phantom scythe base, Kieran leaning against the wall and sketching away as Dylan studied the plants, frowning in concentration. "I would assassinate with some sort of signature, to help me stand out from the others in the phantom scythe. Like I’d always poison someone with hemlock, and put hemlock flowers on their corpses or something...” and little did they know, that’s how his name was born.

“Ok, fighting is overrated. You’re smart, and you’ll make a great scientist!” Kieran said hopefully. 

Dylan threw him a glare over his shoulder.  _ You’re one to talk.  _

“Why Hemlock?” Kieran continued, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, unsettled by Dylan’s increasing hostility towards him that he was mostly oblivious to at the time, "Didn’t you say your last name was Rosenthal? What about killing with whatever poison you wish and always put a white rose or something?” Kieran had suggested, frowning down at a paper, his pencil hovering above it, supposed to be taking notes but only doodling little flower designs on the side to calm himself down. 

"One, your name is Kieran * _ White _ *, don’t want people getting the wrong idea, plus Ivory would be a more suitable color, especially because of its symbolic meaning as a sort of mask I guess, but mm... it’s... too... fragile..” he said carefully, his dark eyebrows furrowed and his pale eyes went cold and emotionless.  _ I didn’t realize there was a difference between white roses and ivory ones but alright then.  _

_ {Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold} _

"All roses have their thorns,” Kieran attempted, shifting uncomfortably. He could easily take Dylan in a fight, the only one who even came remotely close to his skill in combat being Davenport, but something about Dylan made him extremely on edge as of late. 

"I’d want to separate myself from my signature. Keep a sort of deadly reputation. Something that sends a message without me having to get blood on my hands, if you will,” Dylan said, a calculating look in his eyes as he looked at a few flowers and then shook his head decisively, walking over to the others, eyes flashing back and forth between the different flowers. 

“Killing someone is still murder, you know, whether through poison or weapon.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “If any Messenger heard you say something like that you’d probably get a beating.”

"I don’t care about the consequences, I don’t ever want to lose this sense of humanity within me, even if I’m given no choice but to kill,” Kieran said decisively. 

“Hahaha,” his laugh was cold and bitter, “Good luck with that.”

Kieran ignored him, continuing, “I wish I could ...  _ apologize _ ... I wish I could find a way to say I’m sorry... it’s the least I could do,” his eyes scanning the room, flickering about and then focusing some stargazers on the other side of the room. 

“You think the dead will give you forgiveness? Ha! Sentimental as always, Kieran,” Dylan snarled. 

Kieran flinched, blue eyes locking on his, fiddling with his ribbon tying up his raven locks of hair before tightening it. "Well... I... perhaps if I marked my kills with a flower, it could be like a sort of ... repentance.. I’ll never deserve forgiveness but at least I’m paying my respect to the life lost, like how relatives will put flowers at a funeral, at least I could spare my victims the same courtesy... it’s only right...” his eyes averted, dimming slightly. 

“Well, * _ White _ * Hyacinths mean sincerity,” Dylan scowled, walking deeper into the garden and stopping before a patch of hyacinths growing, but then a wicked glint lit up in his eyes, the sun turning his eyes an almost platinum-gold color.

“That would do- hm? What is it?” Kieran followed after, setting his sketchbook down, dropping to a knee beside him, running a hand through his hair restlessly. 

“I think I found one... something that’ll send a message to those ridiculous royals and apologize to the victims in tandem,” Dylan said, teeth flashing in a wicked grin, putting on his gardener gloves and snipping off a flower at the stem, leaning over so he obscured Kieran from the view. He lifted a purple hyacinth, the purple reflecting in his silver eyes as he turned and handed it to Kieran, setting it in his sketchbook. “ _ The Purple Hyacinth _ . It means an apology, and it’s also the symbol of the royal crest.”

“That’ll do,” Kieran said, shoulders slumping, eyes flashing back to the stargazers before they turned back to the hyacinth flower, his blue eyes admiring the purple petals. He gently lifted the flower, gripping it by the stem with his thumb and index finger, remembering that the flower itself was poisonous, considering it thoughtfully, and then nodding in affirmation. 

“That’ll do?! It’s  _ perfect _ ,” Dylan said, picking up a yellow hyacinth and frowning before tossing it to the side, taking off his gloves and chuckling, obviously proud with himself for his find. "It’s a threat so the phantom scythe won’t bug you about it, and it’ll suit your..” he waved his hand around in a flourish, shutting his eyes, “ah..  _ sentimentality _ ,” his eyes slid open and he said, “It’s all yours,  _ Purple Hyacinth _ .” 

_ Purple Hyacinth.. _ .

He elbowed Kieran in the ribs playfully, jolting him out of his dazed state, and Kieran lurched away, laughing, extremely ticklish.

“You’re ticklish? Ahahahaa oh no you’re done for,” Dylan teased, jabbing again at Kieran, who doubled over, sputtering, “I am n-not ticklish-“ Dylan’s eyes lit up with a playful, mischievous expression, and for a moment the two of them could be two teenagers trying to salvage their childhood, a boy with a friend who could pretend there was no worse fear than that of being tickled to death. Kieran jumped out of Dylan’s range of poking and prodding, closing the sketchbook, the purple hyacinth flower trapped inside. Kieran set down his sketchbook and scurried away, running off, Dylan smirking and chasing after him, before outmaneuvering him and trapping him near some spotted phalaenopsis orchids, the purple spots on the white petals brushing against his skin as Dylan tackled him, the two of them crashing into the flower bed as they grappled at each other, grinning like idiots. 

He batted Dylan away, who, upon finding out Kieran’s fatal weakness, immediately besieged him with endless tickles, fingers fluttering and jabbing at Kieran’s side, and then up at his neck when he dodged away, “Hahahahaha, s-stop, stop it-“ Kieran said, helplessly pawing at Dylan, laughing breathlessly as Dylan snickered, dirt scuffing up their boots and clothes, his cap falling off and getting some leaves stuck in his white hair, a few orchids getting stuck in Kieran’s dark hair. “Stoooooop-“ 

“Surrender!” 

“Kahahahaa over my dead body-“ Kieran sputtered, his ribs hurting from laughing so much. 

“Then you leave me no choice-“ Dylan tickled him harder and Kieran collapsed into a fit of laughter, “I can't breathe hahahahahah whyyyy-“ Kieran moaned dramatically, covering his face with a hand and snickering, "It seems my time is up hahahaa-“

“Ahahahaaha-“ Dylan laughed at Kieran’s misfortune. 

“Hahahaha-“ 

“If you two morons will stop giggling like school girls, * _ I _ * want a flower,” Bella interrupted, hands on her hips, flipping her hair back away from her face. They whirled around to face her, not realizing she was there. 

“Oh, hello Belladona,” Dylan got up, brushing himself off and preening the leaves from his hair, fixing his appearance. “Sure, I can help you with that.

“Nice stealth as usual,” Kieran said, leaning back, brushing an orchid out of his hair and admiring it, propping himself up on his elbows, shifting into his usual suave demeanor, “I could use some tips,” he grinned. 

She looked them both up and down, taking her time in the usual shameless seductive way that Belladona wielded as expertly as her daggers, a golden snake bracelet studded with opal gems in the scales coiled around her wrist, jingling slightly as she strode towards them. "Oh I could give you plenty of * _ advice _ *,” she purred, smirking. 

They both rolled their eyes. “Bella, bella,” Dylan sighed. “Must you always make every greeting laced with sanguine secrets?”

She pouted, “Oh you’re no fun,” and gave a flirty wink, “Anyways, straight time the point, I want a flower-“

“You’ve come to the right place then,” Dylan stated, flicking a leaf removed from his hair off to the side.

“A flower? Here’s one-” Kieran teased, tossed the orchid at her and it floated in the air before settling at her feet. She scowled, Kieran couldn’t really fathom why, he really liked orchids, they reminded him of-Kieran’s thought process trailed off as he noticed Belladona staring pointedly at them, raising a brow.

A pause.

“HAHAHAHAHA-“ Dylan and Kieran both doubled over in laughter, Kieran getting to his feet and brushing himself off, “ahahah... ka-hah...haaa—...” their laughter trailing off as Davenport glared at them, rolling her eyes and looking at her nails. “Are you done?” 

“Myeah,” they mumbled in union, shifting awkwardly, standing beside each other. Side by side, some could even mistake them for brothers. 

“So, I want a flower, and I also want it to be something like me. I also want some sort of signature weapon.”

“Have anything in mind?” Dylan inquired.

Belladona grinned, looking up at them from below her eyelashes, amber eyes flashing, “Something like * _ gold _ *.” She bit her lower lip to hide her grin as she added, “Pretty and toxic.” She winked playfully.*

** _ Kieran coughed, averting his gaze quickly, remembering a certain midnight rendezvous a few months ago when he and Belladona, both 16, had snuck out to spar under the stars, their blades clashing until she had pinned him against a wall, her eyes flashing from his eyes to his lips, both of them dripping in sweat, matching each other for blow for blow, his knife at her sternum and her blade at his throat. Her eyes looked akin to the color of monarch butterfly’s wings, hair the color of pink sand, a panther pinned in a tiger’s claws, a raven trapped in a cobra’s coils. Her amber orange eyes locked on his, the two of them suspended for a second in each other’s glares, rivals looking to ruin each other, destined to fight until the flame burned out between them. She was looking for someone to destroy in that moment, and Kieran was looking for someone to destroy him, to remind him he wasn’t a perfect robot following his master’s bidding, a perfect soldier and a perfect weapon, a reminder he could be broken too, he could feel something, he could be human, and the triumphant, almost hungry look in Belladona’s eyes, linked with the passion and power radiating from her presence alone. He let the knife fall from his hands, engulfing himself in her dominating aura, succumbing to whatever consequences followed, the two fiercest assassins in the phantom scythe staring each other down.  _

_ “You’re  _ **_intoxicating_ ** _ ,” he admitted in a hushed whisper, his knife clattering to the floor as she pressed the tip of her blade against his trachea, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, hard.  _

_ "You should guard that heart of yours,” Belladona said softly, a wistful, sad, faraway look crossing over her eyes, but then it passed, followed by a cruel smirk and a flirtatious glint in her eyes, fiddling with the top buttons to his shirt with her free hand. “Someone might steal it.”  _

_ "Tell me Belladona, is this a duel or a heist?”  _

_ “Oh if it’s a duel I’ve already won, and if it’s a heist I’m afraid I’ve already secured the prize,” she purred, before grabbing onto the collar of his shirt and tugging him closer, being careful not to cut him with her blade as her lips crashed onto his. He took a moment to adjust to the sensation, never having kissed anyone before, his eyes falling shut, and Bella smirked against his mouth, saying “Is that all you’ve got?” and he pulled her closer, kissing her longer, deeper, harder, the stars watching on as they indulged in each other’s embrace, her hand tangling in his hair as they shifted closer, their eyes opening again, mesmerized by her almost golden orange eyes, like the deepest of fires trapped in an amber flame preserved in the finest of gemstones under the moonlight, her lips parted, his eyes flicking to them, desperate to feel something, anything, other than numbness, and bound by the same desire her ankle hooked around his leg, he shifted, suddenly turning them around, Kieran forcing her against the wall, roughly kissing her this time, desperation overtaking him. She grinned into the sudden change, pulling him closer, biting onto his lower lip possessively, a viper sinking her fangs into him, time beginning to blur, adrenaline surging through them. Still, they never went too far, dancing on a precarious line of sating their lingering lust and being cautious not to fall too deep into the tempting abyss of pleasure it offered. He was a dreamer, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew a snake when he saw one, even though he knew that deep down, Belladona was human too. As was he.  _

_ The next day things went back to as normal, although she’d keep throwing him sly glances with secrets and promises that he knew better than to try and solve. It was a mistake they both enjoyed but wouldn’t dare to make again. They were simply too smart for that, for it was a game they’d both lose in the end if they dared to play, and even though rivals enjoyed any challenge, they stayed far away from this one, satisfied with their first and last encounter, even though something about Davenport always left everyone who knew her begging for more, no matter what the scenario. Still, Kieran had found something much better with his partner under the moon, despite the pain it wrought, but still, he would rather spend an eternity with Lauren hating every fiber of his being and threatening him at gunpoint than two more hours with Belladona, whilst not knowing who Lauren Sinclair even was.  _

_ But back then, he hadn’t known any Sinclair’s except for a small mention for the Chief of Police in his Phantom Scythe studies....** _

Back in the greenhouse, Bella had grinned at him, both of them in on a little secret, but her eyes snapped back to Dylan, her current person of interest, hungry for answers to her questions, and for a signature weapon, intoxicated easily by the fame that becoming a great assassin for the phantom scythe brought. Even though Kieran was a better fighter, he hoped Bella would become much more famous, so that he wouldn’t have to kill so many... it was selfish, but 17 years old, he was desperate to hold onto every last drop of humanity, even if it meant letting Davenport get all the glory. 

_ If only he had known what was to come following his first kill, and then his second, and then his hundredth- _

Kieran had killed more people than anyone in the phantom scythe combined.

But he didn’t know that he would then. He only could be an awkward teenager for a moment, trying to hide a slightly scandalous endeavor, the two best assassins in training having a midnight tryst... 

He should’ve known better, considering the way Belladona was looking at Dylan, sizing him up. She would do anything for information, and if she felt someone was important enough, she would play with them until they were begging for her affection.

Kieran himself wasn’t completely immune at the time either, although it seemed Belladona had fallen a bit for him by accident, slipped up, enjoyed it too much. 

But all made mistakes in youth. 

And besides, a single romantic rendezvous was certainly much more forgivable than the bloodstained kills counted like nothing but high scores on some sort of cruel test that the teachers of the Phantom Scythe inflicted upon its enslaved students...

Their only escape was to excel, to succeed...Or they’d be broken far faster than they could hope to retain their last bit of sanity

This training wasn’t just a rigorous test of their morals and everything they stood for.

It was about survival. 

And all three of them found friendship, chained together in the spaces of silence between the dark shards that pierced their heart with every dark deed done

But just for a moment, they could all smile and laugh and talk about flowers of all things, trying to hide the dark undertones and obscure deeper meanings behind it all. 

Dylan has grinned, oblivious , taking off his cap to run a hand through his ivory white hair, his teeth flashing, a flicker of the boy Kieran had known resurfacing, even though his aura was akin to an empty void in which it made you feel as if something was missing, his smirk a bit too sinister, his eyes a bit too cruel, his features a bit too perfect to be true, "I think I know just the one for you,” he had said. “I have a quite of ideas for you actually. You like snakes, no?”

Her face lit up and she grinned, lifting a hand and grabbing onto Kieran’s face, shoving him and sending him stumbling away, sauntering towards Dylan. Kieran righted himself, shaking his head and laughing, and Bella smirked at him. “Out of my way, you sorrowful sentimental seagull.” She stuck her tongue out at him, arm linking with Dylan’s, amber eyes turning to face him. “I’m listening.” 

“I was thinking you could incorporate some sort of snake venom, maybe even golden viper venom, into a short blade, considering how good you are with one in combat,” Dylan asserted in a conspiratorial tone, winking at her. 

“Ooo. Sounds perfect,” she purred, “Shall we?”

”Cya, Kieran!” They called over their shoulder, and continued off, both of them grinned at each other as if they shared a secret. 

It was simply her way of things.

And he admired her for it. He never had paused to wonder how things differed for women, but Bella had turned every obstacle into her own weapon, and her seductive aura kept people at bay or drew them in close enough for her to stab or steal the secrets out of them. As for Dylan, he was extremely brilliant, and Kieran didn’t understand why the phantom scythe preferred brutality over brains. He certainly preferred the company of his own mind than the feel of a gun in his hand. He was good enough at shooting, but he liked the weight of the katana, for it reminded him of the weight of his actions and provided a quick death and he was an expert at wielding it. Furthermore, as his superiors enthusiastically noted, it made more of a mess, and would do well to strike fear into his victims. 

But if he could chose, he would much rather have a paintbrush or a pen in his hand. He passed by the flowers, wincing as a thorn from a red rose nicked into the skin of his arm.

Little did he know he’d never pick up a paintbrush again after his first kill.

He opened his sketchbook, sitting down near a patch of daisies, letting the aroma of all the flowers around him drift over him, hearing Dylan talking to Davenport about belladonna flowers, also known as deadly nightshade flowers in the poisonous flower section. He mulled over the purple hyacinth flower resting in his sketchbook, the petals pressed flat against the parchment, the pigment staining the paper slightly. 

So much had changed since Kieran had made his first kill. So much had changed since he had been forced to punish Dylan for his defiance himself. So much had changed since he was young and speaking so hopefully of humanity, the days when smoke and ash and the debris and ruin from the Allendale Train Station Tragedy didn’t overrun his senses in tandem with every bloody murder he had inflicted with his own hands at the bidding of his puppeteer, the leader he had done everything to destroy and still was no closer to finding. The only one who seemed to be destroyed was himself...

Still, if he had to do it all again, just if he could meet * _ her _ *, he would, without a moment’s hesitation....Lauren

* _ Lauren _ *]

He snapped out of the stupor of his memories.

He needed to get back to her.

Now.

_ {Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me.} _

He stormed past some foxglove flowers, then wolfsbane, but then skidded to a stop, the hidden door seeming to beckon him closer. Oh joy, all the secret garden vibes he was getting from all of this, despite the fact that there was nothing magical about this. 

_ Come on Kieran,  _ focus, he thought, about to rejoin Lauren, but then sighed in frustration, walking over to the door and trying the handle.

Locked.

_ {You should have seen how wisely I proceeded} _

He kicked the lock off, and then slammed his body weight against it, the door giving way.

_ {slowly —very, very slowly} _

He stumbled inside, confusion furrowing his brow. What the hell was THIS? A singular window allowed the light to trickle in, illuminating a small vase of daisies, the flowers in perfect condition, a journal resting atop a windowsill, a pen atop it.

He frowned, averting his gaze. Likely a personal journal...a diary of some sorts. He remembered his own space, somewhat similar to this, the sketching room he always locked even though he never had any visitors... except for when he brought Lauren to his apartment and stitched her shoulder.

His own personal space, filled to the brim with the drawings he desperately sketched out to preserve the little bit of humanity in the world he could still recognize, before it was too late, but with every kill he made for the leader, he knew it was already far too late, but he tried to remember the humanity in others, anyways, even if the hope for still preserving his own humanity was so far diminished.

* _ This sense of humanity. I don’t ever want to lose it.*  _

He shook his head, shaking the ravaging reminiscent remnants from his mind.  _ Focus, Kieran. _

He considered turning and walking straight out the door, and actually allow Hemlock some privacy, but he had lost his morals a long time ago so he proceeded to walk over to the windowsill, flipping the journal to the last page curiously, a habit from when he would read the endings of books without any context to entice himself enough to read the entirety of the book, looking over his shoulder before glancing at the page. His blue eyes widened, and his hands gripped the paper, fingers crinkling the edges. 

" _ Day 3675, Vol 3. _ ” There were more of these?! Just over ten years... 

An excerpt of Dylan’s Diary read, written in perfect calligraphy, the letters luxuriously penned in a beautiful cursive that got less fancy and the ink much darker as it went on, as if he was writing faster and faster as he put the words into the paper: 

_ “I hope you missed me, Ren. I hope me going missing drove you mad. I hope my absence was such a plague on your existence that your only cure is me, and my love, I will gladly provide you with the antidote. ~D. Rosenthal  _

“What. The. Hell,” Kieran breathed, turquoise eyes scanning over the paper, but reading it alone felt like trying to decode madness. 

_ {Ha! Would a madman have been so wise as this} _

The snippet below read: 

_ Dear Lauren, _

_ I saw you again today, and I put together quite a few dots. La Lune, hmm? Greychapel is very dangerous, I do hope you were careful, but someone who dares to make a deal with the Purple Hyacinth, a man I unfortunately know quite well, is being rather reckless regardless of circumstance, wouldn’t you agree? You have such an analytical brain, yet also you’re so very impulsively emotionally driven. I love it. You’ve driven me quite insane, if I admit, but I do hope I can see you again.”  _ Underneath, a photograph of him and her bickering under the lamplight stared back at him, Lauren scowling as Kieran stared at her, jaw tensed.  _ “You two really do bloom in the moonlight, like moonflowers. I always thought Kieran was more of a stargazer than a hyacinth myself. You, on the other hand... I once thought a daisy would suit you... your favorite flower..” _

Another picture, this one: A brilliant smirk on Lauren’s face, Kieran rolling his eyes in the photograph, the photographers presence forever unbeknownst. 

_ “No... daisies don’t suit you anymore. You’re not delicate. You’re not innocent. You’re not pure. You’re ravaging as a rose, just like me, deadly beautiful and with deadly thorns, and deserve a crown of golden laurels, not delicate daisies, yet here I am making you another crown, dreaming of calling you beautiful again.. but I’m beginning to think that very soon, my dreams will be beginning to come true... very soon, they’ll become reality... You see, we have something in common, Ren. We don’t give up, two flames of pure determination, passion, pride, power, yet you go and make a deal with the sea’s abyss of a stargazer, an artist, when instead you could be * _ **_mine_ ** _.* It’s so very cruel that he gets to face the thousand emotions that shine in your pensive golden eyes-”  _ Kieran cringed, knowing Lauren hated the word pensive to describe her eyes, even though it was true.

“ _ Instead of ME. I have waited far too long. Far. Too. Long. I am done waiting. You’ve been trying deliciously, desperately hard to find me all these years, the only one who looked for me even when all the others let me become but a phantom, a ghost, a specter. Pick your word, pick your poison. Which reminds me, I have a little reunion I’d like to set up. So instead of letting you puzzle out where I am and being clever enough to keep you guessing, I’m done trying to keep you away from me. I did it all for you, to ensure your own safety, to keep you from dropping under the scythe’s radar, but I’m afraid they’re already hunting for you, La Lune. I won’t find you, no that won’t do. You’ll find me. One way or another.”  _

Kieran flipped through the diary, finding dozens and dozens of pictures, pictures of Lauren, taken from the specter in the shadows.

Confusion spiraled in Kieran’s mind, a thousand questions, a thousand thoughts, disgust roiling through him as he read the previous snippet, and the next, the first, third, seventh, twelfth, sixth, all out of order, his head spinning as he slammed the journal shut, shaking from revulsion, repulsed by the obsessive contexts, the detailed descriptions, the fanatic fantasies, the disturbing revelations-

He needed to get back to Lauren.  _ Now _ .

He stored the journal away in his trench coat. It didn’t matter if he was snooping through Dylan’s things, but he needed more evidence if he was going to outplay Hemlock. He was clever, he would find a way to dodge around Lauren’s lying ability if he knew about it, and Lauren would automatically believe a childhood friend over a monster like him.  _ No- _ he shook the thought off - she had to believe him. She * _ had _ * to. 

The flowers blurred past him as he exited the room and ran towards the door of the greenhouse at a brisk pace, wrenching it open and walking into the apothecary.

Hemlock walked out of the operations room, his smile fading into a solemn frown, and Kieran ducked out of the way, hiding in the shadows as Hemlock began to stalk towards one of the shelves. Kieran hid behind a stack of crates, peering up at him, and ducked as Hemlock’s head turned to the side, silver eyes cooly scanning his apothecary. 

_ {when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber} _

Dylan grabbed something off of the shelves, a syringe, and a singular daisy flower from a vase on one of the shelves, grabbing a glass and turning, walking to another door, opening it silently, cautiously, before slipping in, not bothering to shut it, the room emanating of red light. 

_ {I was more than usually cautious when opening the door} _

He hid behind the bookshelves filled to the brim with poisons, antidotes, and the like, looking from the operations room door Lauren resided behind and the room Dylan had walked into. 

_ {A watch’s minute hand moves more quickly than did mine} _

Thoughts racing, he slipped into the room, unlocked now, shutting it silently behind him, desperate to unravel the secrets that could be hidden there.

Dylan’s back was turned, thankfully, and Kieran heard the sound of running water filling up a water cup before he turned off the tap. Kieran, too busy focusing on Dylan to notice anything except for the strange red lighting. 

“I’m sorry,” Dylan whispered.

_ Hypocrite _ . Kieran scowled in disgust, remembering Dylan used to insult him whenever he apologized, thinking that apologies were useless. Clearly, he didn’t pursue his own pontifications. 

Dr. Hemlock continued, “I wish I could be the Dylan you remember, but you see, we’ve both changed... you, on one hand, are  _ magnificent _ . Me, I’m not so sure. But I do what I must, and I’m a man of my word. I will save you, whatever it takes. I would do anything to make you  _ mine _ ,” he muttered, lifting the daisy up to the light, baring his teeth in a sinister smile, eyes ablaze with a crazed silver fire.

_ {I could scarcely contain my feeling of triumph} _

He should’ve felt satisfied that he was correct, that Hemlock was by far someone completely different than Lauren thought he was.

Instead, it only filled him with dread, and fear unlike any he had felt before.

I have to get back to her, find her, talk to her, save her before it’s too late-

His hands fisted in his hair. But then again-  _ Who was the monster?  _ Him or Hemlock? Or were they both shadows who would be better off staying away from the golden flame that was Lauren Sinclair?

Dylan looked over his shoulder, tensing, eyes flashing, and Kieran ducked again, hiding, his heart pounding, thinking of a thousand escape plans, a thousand thoughts, so many of them, none with any good solution- 

_ {“Who’s there?”} _

Dylan lifted the syringe and infused some sort of serum into the stem of the Daisy flower, hand steady around the syringe. Kieran recoiled in shock, his shoulder bumping into a crate.

_ {I kept quite still and said nothing.} _

Hemlock stiffened, and Kieran held his breath, not daring to breathe, not daring to move, setting the syringe down, turning, his pale eyes glancing over the spot where Kieran was hiding, not noticing him, and then put in the small daisy flower into the water, eyes narrowing coldly, dark eyebrows contrast to his white hair furrowing slightly. “I’m sorry Lauren, but I need you to rest while I take care of some.. business.. and god knows you deserve it.. just a small sedative, it won’t hurt you, I promise...” he said softly, but everything about him made Kieran feel as if he were witnessing a specter haunting the halls, Dylan’s presence a void that was missing something vital, missing something human, his shadow creeping up against the walls seeming more alive than the man who walked past Kieran, opening his door, grim determination painting a smirk on his face that flickers to a concerned, curious facade, the only remnant of the real Dylan and it was a lie, the cup of tainted water in his hands. 

_ {And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel} _

* _ Holy sh*t, he’s going to drug Lauren _ .* Kieran took out his dagger, rising to his feet, eyes blazing, not sure what he was going to do-

_ {although he neither saw nor heard} _

But the door clicked shut.

Kieran jumped to his feet, but then he stopped in his tracks, eyes widening in shock. 

“What-“ he turned around in a slow circle, finally seeing his surroundings. The bedroom had been converted into a darkroom, which explained the crimson lighting, and photographs, hundreds and hundreds of photographs laid in chemical baths, were strung up on lines dangling over his ceiling, were pinned to the walls. A vase of roses stayed at his nightstand, probably wilting from the lack of sunlight, and as Kieran looked around, eyes but blue raindrops amongst a red stained monochrome inferno, he noticed they were all of * _ her _ .* 

This was much worse than he had thought 

Lauren in her APD uniform, a note about how her friends seemed nice underneath, laughing with Kym and Williame, Lauren chasing down a criminal, Lauren dragging away the same thief in handcuffs, a note saying “ _ oh the things you can do with those handcuffs impress me to this day _ ” Lauren screaming as she beat down a punching bag until her stitches tore, a note underneath “ _ what happened to you, my love? _ ” 

Kieran recognized the bruises on her neck and swallowed hard, fury and agony lancing through him in waves that crashed down upon him, again and again. 

_ {and I grew furious as I gazed upon it} _

He turned, seeing Hemlock’s camera resting on top of his bed, ivory sheets stained red by the light, the camera’s lens seeming to mock him as Dylan’s evil eyes did again and again and again-

_ {do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst.} _

There wasn’t a mirror in sight, no wonder he had a bit of stubble lining part of his jaw, as if he missed a spot when shaving, there wasn’t a single window in sight, no wonder he had been driven to the brink of madness, and all Kieran could see as far as the eye could reach was Lauren, Lauren, Lauren. Or as Dylan called her...

_ Ren _ .

“ _ RUN _ !!” He thought Dylan had screamed when he dragged him out of the fire. Perhaps he had been wrong. Just as blind as Lauren.  _ They were all hypocrites.  _

_ {it increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulate the soldier into courage} _

His heart started to pound in his chest, breaths leaving him in short pants, doubling over and gasping, trying to fight a panic attack threatening to rise. He hadn’t had a panic attack since he was forced to kill for the first time, and he refused to have one now, forcing himself to breathe, in, out, focus Kieran, focus, think of the humanity-

_ {I bade them search --search well.} _

Lauren  _ needed _ to see this. He rummaged through the pictures, taking a few of the more disturbingly inappropriate ones, like Lauren coming out of a shower in her mansion, like Lauren shooting a bullet into Tim Sake and Dylan noting he deserved it, ( ~~ even though Kieran agreed ~~ ~~),~~ Lauren flipping off a date and storming off, lips parted in a fierce snarl, golden eyes glowing even in black and white, the note underneath explaining that liars “ _ deserved punishment” _ and that she “ _ ought to stop going on dates, you’re mine, remember? _ ”. Lauren grinning and running a hand through her hair, Hemlock’s caption a very..  _ explicit _ ..description of what he’d do to her if he got the chance. 

Kieran himself wasn’t immune to desire, and passion, but this was pure obsessive lust. There was no love in Dylan’s heart. 

_ There was no humanity here in this cursed place.  _

_ {I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone.} _

He waited a bit of time before hurrying out Dylan’s darkroom/bedroom, the red light already starting to drive him mad, pulse thrumming as he broke into a swift, silent sprint as stealthily as a black cat. * _ Get to Lauren, warn her before it’s too late.*  _ He couldn’t get the photographs out of his mind, the daisies and the journal and the syringe and the cryptic, controlling verbiage corrupting every cruel word penned from Dylan’s hand or spoken from his lips. Hemlock was obsessed with * _ his _ * partner, and it would be a cold day in hell when he let that fox, that * _ snake _ * lay a hand on-

He skidded to a stop, hovering by the doorway of the room Dylan examined his patients in, stunned by the scene before him.

Lauren was sitting on an elevated marble slab, eyes focused on Dylan’s, the daisy resting in the glass cup. It was empty, and she looked incredibly drowsy, desperate desire and a thousand other unreadable emotions flickering in the golden depths of her eyes. The world seemed to burn, and Kieran felt only like a shadow in the harsh glow of the sun in full shine as his stomach lurched, feeling as if something was horribly wrong. 

Dylan shifted closer, murmuring something to her.

{ _ My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. } _

* _ I’m too late _ .* he recoiled, as if from the impact of bullet between his ribs.

He hovered at the doorway, watching the scene unfold before him.

Her golden eyes glittered, their mouths inches apart, staring at him as if he were the sun she revolved around, his silver eyes of liquid mercury looking so incredibly starved, his lips parted slightly. His throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously, muttering something else.

Kieran’s eyes widened, about to call out and interrupt them, at least stop  _ this,  _ before-

{ _ The ringing became more distinct: - It continued and became more distinct} _

She hissed, "Shut _ up,” _ an intensity igniting in her eyes so similarly to when she had kissed * _ him _ *. Stunned, silence settled over them for a second. Did she even know her effect on people? 

And Dylan, Dylan looked positively  _ ravenous _ as she lunged forward, tugging his head down and ensnaring him in a savage kiss, Dylan’s fingers flexing on either side of her on the counter, his eyebrows furrowing, eyes squeezing shut, lips parting for a ragged gasp before he kissed her harder. 

Kieran almost collapsed, his lips parting open in shock, sealing his mouth shut immediately after to keep from choking out a startled cry, his knees giving out, holding onto the doorframe to keep himself from falling to the floor, lingering in the shadows shrouding the doorway.

_ {it continued and gained definiteness } _

The reality of the situation slammed into him with detrimental, damaging definiteness as Lauren shifted back on her elbows, lowering herself onto the marble slab and tugging Dylan over her, her hands grabbing onto either side of his face as their lips crashed together again, Dylan letting out a muffled groan as he planted a hand beside her head, the other grabbing onto her thigh and pulling her against him, her leg hooking over his hip.

_ {-until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.} _

Hemlock grabbed roughly onto Lauren’s injured shoulder, Lauren crying out in pain and Hemlock drowning out the sound with another ruthless kiss, her yelp dissolving into a pitiful whimper as she held him even * _ closer _ *, as if she had no choice but to surrender to his every desire. Kieran’s blood boiled, ears roaring with blood, knuckles going white from his hands being curled into fists, his head spinning, gritting his teeth together, fighting back a scream, fighting back his tears. He hurt her, he * _ hurt _ * her and she * _ still _ * wanted him-

She leaned back, engulfing him in a consuming kiss, holding onto him almost possessively, and Kieran felt a surge of unwelcome envy humming in his veins, Lauren kissing Dylan as if she desired to control him, suddenly raising up on her elbows, but he grabbed a fistful of the front of her shirt and shoved her back down, overpowering her, claiming her, devouring her in the power of his poisonous kiss. She moaned as his silver tongue forced its way into her mouth, drowning her in an all consuming kiss, Lauren biting onto his lower lip, giving it a savage tug that had him groaning against her mouth. 

Lauren gasped as Dylan’s lips left hers to kiss the base of her throat, pleasuring her where Kieran had hurt her those many days ago.

_ {It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton.} _

Kieran, not realizing he still had Lauren’s bandages in his hands, begun to wrap them around his wrists, his hands, cuffing himself with the cloth, restraining himself, muffling the war drum’s beating of his heart, as if trying to put a bandage on how his heart bled inside out, agonizing pain tearing through him as he watched helplessly by the doorway. 

He should leave before they could hear the tell-tale racing of his heart, its agonized wailing as he lingered in the shadows, horrified, conflicted, confused, a thousand emotions rolling through his head. 

Dylan nipped at the side of Lauren’s neck, biting down hard, and Kieran flinched as he watched, Dylan’s tongue running over the mark it left, but Lauren didn’t seem to mind, her hand tangling in Dylan’s white curls and holding him closer. Dylan growled out a curse followed by her name as Lauren tugged at his curls, tilting her neck back further. His kisses became more bruising, more desperate, as if he was waiting to do this for a long time and he suddenly felt as if he were running out of time. Dylan‘s lips ghosted over the underside of her jaw, and a cry spilled from Lauren’s lips as she moaned, “Oh, Dylan, * _ please _ *.”

_ {I gasped for breath}  _

Kieran stifled a gasp, the sound of Lauren begging ravaging him in every aspect, tearing his senses to shreds as he squeezed his eyes shut, begging the pain to end, but instead it pulsed through him, again, and again, biting down hard into his lip until it bled, taking a ragged breath. 

Not only was she becoming completely undone, Kieran was watching her unravel at * _ Dylan’s _ * touch. He fought back every urge in him to intervene, his knuckles turning ghost white as he gripped the side of the doorframe, the wood digging into his palms. 

_ {I foamed - I raved - I swore!} _

Rage bubbled and boiled within him, surging in Kieran’s veins as he forced his eyes open, heart racing, hands itching for his knife, dragging his tongue over his teeth, pupils dilating to near slits, wishing he could slash Dylan’s entire hand off this time instead of just a singular finger.  _ And the knife goes chop... chop... chop, Dylan’s screams, his superiors’ sadistic smirks _ \- he shook off the memory, revulsion at his own jealousy warring with the animalistic desire to tear Hemlock to shreds just for making Lauren whimper, for forcing him to watch. 

He took another ragged breath, forcing himself to calm down, to compose himself, not realizing he had forgotten to muffle it this time, yet no one seemed to notice, despite for Dylan stiffening imperceptibly, pausing in the midst of a passionate, possessive kiss. Hopelessness overpowered him, daring to bring him to his knees, Hemlock eclipsing La Lune and by bringing down Lauren with each cruel, corruptive kiss, he befell Kieran as well, and it was invigoratingly  _ enraging _ . 

Dylan, cursing again under his breath, grabbed both of her wrists with a single hand, pinning her hands above her head as his lips crashed back down onto hers, eyebrows furrowed as he tugged her closer, pinning her down with his body weight. “ _ Ren _ ...," he growled, and she bit onto his lower lip and tugged, hard. Kieran couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness, of agony, of rage, all emotions surging throughout him, overwhelming him, unable to tear his eyes away. 

_ {Was it possible they heard not?}  _

Dylan’s eyes fluttered open, half lidded in pleasure, but then his eyes opened a bit wider, catching Kieran’s gaze in his own, trapping him. Audacious amusement, smug surprise, and a devious, devilish look crossed his face. 

Kieran stiffened, baring his teeth in a fierce scowl against his will, carnal rage corrupting his every fiber of being. 

_ How... dare... he... _ Kieran’s thoughts snarled, but then backfired against themselves, * _ how scandalous of you, and intrusive, watching a private moment* _ the thoughts ricocheting and rebounding off of the walls of his mind, * _ Face the facts, Hyacinth, you’re not wanted, and you’re no longer needed, _ * his ears ringing and his head spinning, the agony he tried to hide so hard. 

He smirked against Lauren’s lips, his pale iris looking akin to that of an evil eye as Kieran’s heart pounded a war drum muffled by the cotton bandages he was wrapping around his hands, binding himself, restraining himself, controlling himself even though everything screamed at him to run Rosenthal through with a sword right then and there. 

_ {They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! — they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think.} _

“ _ Mmm _ ,” Hemlock purred, eyes going half lidded, almost as if encouraged by the murderous expression in Kieran’s eyes, intoxicated in the satisfactory sensation of seeing Kieran so enraged and having Lauren in his claws. Horrified, Kieran cast his gaze away, his eyes burning, tears threatening to blur his vision, scowling as he fought the defeat and desperation plaguing him, all for this torture of a whole different kind to end, his facades threatening to shatter and render him vulnerable. 

Dylan groaned louder as Lauren kissed him again, his movements more controlling, more elaborate, hands claiming her, controlling her, as if he were putting in extra enthusiasm, adding to the spectacle of the show, Lauren completely under his spell, and Kieran but a shadow of the flame, nonexistent, an invisible man wishing he could wake up from this nightmare. Dylan grabbed a fistful of her auburn hair, his right hand with the missing finger tangling in the crimson curls and wrenching her head closer to him as he seized her lips in his once more. The message was clear. * _ She’s mine.* _

Two birds with ensnared with one vine, both helpless to do nothing but submit to the mastermind who wove the web they were trapped in.

Lauren swore, the sound of it savage on her own lips, the sensation and implications of it making Kieran close his own eyes and bite his lower lip, Lauren capable of doing so many things to him even as he watched her with another man, trembling slightly, drunk on his rage and his own deeper desire to be the one undoing Lauren, or rather the one being undone by * _ her _ *, instead of * _ HIM _ *. It should be * _ me _ * he thought angrily, squeezing his eyes tighter shut as he tried to block out their ragged breathing, hating the way Lauren seemed so dominated, almost branded by every bruise Dylan inflicted upon her starlit skin with his cruel lips, so * _ defeated _ * by that bastard,  _ completely _ giving in. Where was the fight that he knew so intimately? The power struggle that ended up with her ending up on top much more than once.

He only saw corruption, possession, and claiming. He wanted to run Dylan through with a sword. He wanted Lauren to kiss him like that. He wanted to stab Dylan until he was nothing but a bloody mess on the floor and tear him apart, he wanted Lauren to punish him for it, he wanted to kiss Lauren, no, he wanted Lauren to kiss * _ him _ * and to make Dylan watch, to show him she belonged to no one and chose Kieran to destroy instead, he wanted to make Dylan suffer just as Kieran suffered right now, the pain agonizing as he forced his eyes open again, daring to watch, unable to look away. * _ I’m too late _ .* 

_ Dylan _ ,” she whispered as his hips shifted so that he could consume her in another, deeper kiss, Hemlock resurfacing for air and running his tongue over his teeth, both their eyes opening and locked on each other’s, Dylan’s eyes shutting as he gave her an even fiercer kiss, leaving Lauren breathless, his hands running down her hips and grabbing onto her thighs, Lauren letting out a guttural growl at the touch, tugging his head closer.

* _ This is ...  _ **_unbearable_ ** _...* _ Kieran thought, shuddering, his hands shaking. 

He drowned her in another kiss, Lauren giving another breathless gasp as he pulled away and began to kiss down the column of her neck, shifting down, kissing her collarbone, grabbing onto her shoulder again. She groaned, throwing her head back, and Kieran hissed out a breath between his teeth, fighting the urge to swear.

_ {But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision!} _

Lauren’s golden eyes fluttered open, entranced, mesmerized by every merciless kiss, and then shifted to the side, dizzy with pleasure, but then widened in stunned shock as her eyes locked on Kieran’s, going incredibly still. 

Confusion clashed with shock as she stared at him, golden eyes flashing slightly before going dim. 

He recoiled, his own eyes flickering before dimming as well, the agony in his heart evident on his face, feeling as if Lauren had stabbed him in the heart with one of Dylan’s scalpels, poisoned with golden viper and twisted in for good measure, feeling as if she had ripped it out mercilessly and kissed Hemlock’s lips as Kieran dropped to his knees and bled to death. She was the moon, he was the sun illuminating her in the night and overshadowing her in the day, and Kieran was but the dark depths of the night sky, the stars all but forgotten in the blinding light of the day. * _ Be careful, or someone might steal it.* _

Belladona had warned about his heart being stolen, but this was worse, he realized, as Lauren stared deep into his eyes, decoding his desperation and defeat, analyzing his agony. His heart felt like it had been stabbed with the most wicked of blades, paralyzed to the spot, angrily blinking away any sort of emotion from his face, a cold, emotionless mask decorating his features as he shut down any sentiment destined to destroy him.

“ _ Kieran _ ?” She whispered, almost as if she couldn’t believe it, still trapped in a dazed stupor. 

He could still taste the blood in her mouth and salt from the tears on her lips, he could still feel the passion she poured into a kiss he feared would be the last memory he’d get of her in the world of the living, but right now, neither of them were truly alive nor dead, smoke and mirrors trapping them in a deceitful, distant dream. If only she knew how far deep into her dream she had been trapped, as well. But, alas, it was far, far too late. Hemlock had outplayed them both, and Kieran, he couldn’t handle this, the bitterness burning in his blue eyes, raven hair wild around his head, ribbon too tight, his head throbbing, his heart aching, his throat caught with held back sobs, his eyes burning with unshed tears. 

_ Nevermore _ ...

For him, this nightmare never ended. 

The sound of her name on his lips, Dylan’s struggle to hide his smirk behind a reasonable dose of faked surprise as he turned his head to face Kieran again, still on top of Lauren, regarding him cruelly, an albino crocodile amused by a raven with a broken wing trying to out-hop a fox, and it broke him, shattered his tell tale heart and his senses and  _ he needed to- he needed to get out of here- _ before Hemlock finally dragged his dehumanized, damaged husk to checkmate. He would rather be at an intense impasse with Lauren any day, not this- this utter, complete domination by Dylan Rosenthal of all people. He shook his head swiftly, snapping back to his senses for a fragment of a second before he broke for good. 

_ {I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!}  _

He turned on his heel, pressing his palms to his eyes.  _ Too late, too late, _ he stumbled out of the apothecary like a drunken man, breaking into a sprint as he ran out into the blinding day, running, running until his breaths were ragged and his energy was ravaged, collapsing against a wall. He leaned back against it, throwing his head back, taking out Dylan’s diary from the compartment in his trench coat, screaming in rage, a raw, wild sound that ravaged his throat before hurling it at the wall, panting, shuddering, faltering.

A shadow silently dropped down from a windowsill of the building whose wall he leaned against, seemingly seconds after he sighed and looked to the stars, but they were nowhere in sight, the clouds drifting, a raven flying overhead, the sky so blue and the sun basking over his shoulders, making his eyes burn, the wind blowing at his hair. Such lovely weather, such a catastrophe of a day. 

And it would only get much, much worse. 

A blunt object suddenly struck hard against the back of his head with a solid  **_THWACK_ ** , the blow distorting his sense of direction -  _ how had someone snuck up on the purple hyacinth, distracted distracted as always - _ as he staggered, swore, stumbled, and swayed, head spinning before he toppled over, dropping to his knees and then slumping over onto his side with a groan, only registering a glimmer of gold, a glint of steel, amber eyes, pink hair, a confident, satisfied smirk on painted lips and a heels clicking on cobblestones before everything went dark. 

~

He snapped awake, his head spinning, throbbing from a the blow to the back of his forehead, a whiff of ammonia knocking him to his senses, silver eyes piercing into his. He lurched back, letting out a muffled cry, gagged by a cloth of some sort and ensnared by iron chains crisscrossing over him, binding him against a wooden chair, thrashing and finding they were thoroughly secure. He scanned his surroundings quickly, a circus tent, a piano propped at the corner, Hemlock’s journal back in the hand of Hemlock himself, Lauren nowhere in sight. 

_ How much time had passed? Where was Lauren? Was she alright? How did this happen?! _

Hemlock wasn’t wearing his signature cap, and his camera rested on the top of the piano. His white locks were loose and wild around his head and his grey eyes flitted about, a crazed glint lighting up in them as he smirked down at Kieran smugly. He wore a white lab coat over a grey undershirt, grey trousers, and his hands were covered with black latex gloves, stunned slightly by the contrast in his attire alone, by the calculating, cold look in his eyes as he said, "Oh I hope you don’t mind, as retribution for you looking through my personal diary, how rude of you, by the way,” venom dropping off of his words, a sly smile crossing his features as he continued, “I took a picture of your unconscious figure without your permission,” laughing at himself in a sinister but jovial way as if he told the most hilarious joke in the world, and an inside joke at that, “just, a small little favor for Belladona.” 

"WHAT?!” He tried to sputter, “Y-YOU’RE WORKING WITH BELLADONNA? WHERE IS LAUREN-“ but the gag muffled his voice, the words instead sounding more like- 

“ _ WHSYSJJDJWHYRWKNGWBEWWADONNUWHSSLAURNSKDJSKDJDKDK”  _

Hemlock stepped back, looking perfectly amused at his incoherent babbling, setting the ammonia down on a table, storing away his journal in a large pocket in his lab coat, and adjusting his gloves, giving a wicked, sinister laugh as he turned around. “Oh, the  _ almighty _ Purple Hyacinth. Let me guess what you’re trying to say.... hmm... I’m assuming it comes with a sorry? All you ever do is  _ apologize _ ,” he backhanded him hard across the face, the blow harsh, severe, stunning, taking out a steel scalpel from the interior pocket to his lab coat as Kieran’s head snapped to the side.

His head hung down after the initial impact, taking a few deep breaths to compose himself, raven hair escaped from his ribbon falling in his face as he strained against the chains, closing his eyes as the impact ricocheted through him. He looked up, his mask falling back into place, giving Dr. Hemlock a death glare of electric blue, his hands curling into fists. 

“Well, well,” Hemlock sneered, twirling the sharp steel scalpel between his four fingers, before dropping to a knee and stabbing the blade down on the armrest of the chair, in between his index finger and thumb, the chair shaking from the impact, Kieran not even flinching, refusing to indulge Dylan in anything that may be of remote satisfaction to him. “Let’s play a little game, shall we?” Dylan remarked with a wicked laugh, his storm grey eyes flashing with a smug, sinister glint, brimming with silver satisfaction. “ _ My, my, how the tables turn." _

  
  



	5. The Phantom of the Opera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan POV
> 
> Musical Reference: Phantom of the Opera [[https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=EGb4hj-EXt0]] snippets of lyrics also taken from different songs in the play 
> 
> Theme Songs: Young God & Gasoline by Halsey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics started coherent and then just ended up being from a bunch of diff phantom of the opera songs all out of order: coherent and then turned into a distorted, chaotic mess, just like Dylan’s sanity ✨

**Chapter 5: The Phantom Of The Opera**

**Dylan**

{In sleep he sang to me}

  
Dylan smirked as Kieran rushed out the door, his silver gaze turning back to Lauren, her eyes widened, hand reaching out towards him. “Kieran?” She whispered, lips parted in shock. He wanted to taste it. Suddenly, with all his dreams coming true, all his plans set into perfect motion, he found he simply couldn’t be satisfied being a specter any longer. He wanted more, and he wanted it * _now_ * before everything was ripped away from him, before it was too late, before she saw the secrets and the lies hidden under the surface- his gaze flashed back to her, pinned under him, looking so ... unsure. He wanted to erase all doubt from her, desire running rampant in his mind, chasing away all logic.

{In dreams he came}

He hadn’t meant to kiss her, and a silent siren in the back of his head snarled to stop, that the sedative was clouding her judgement and he’d rather seduce her in a state when she had a better hold on her sanity, but he wasn’t planning on stopping. The feeling of her lips on his, a bit rough, as if she were fighting, giving him a desire to fight back until she had no choice but to succumb to his sensuous touch, her nails biting into his skin as she tugged him closer, her every response to his touch driving him mad, the feeling of her hand in his hair, he wanted more, he’d never be satisfied again until he had all of her. All of his fantasies were becoming realities, and they were far better than he could’ve dreamed, and Kieran, _oh_. He wrenched her head closer, hand with the missing finger tangled in her luscious crimson curls, her golden eyes flashing back to his, his smirk fading into a solemn frown.

{That voice that calls to me and speaks my name}

He had taken so much from him. It was only right Dylan take something back. * _Mine_ * Dylan thought fiercely as he drowned Lauren in another savage kiss, her eyes widening as he stared into them, hands pushing at his chest- _what was happening-_ he kissed harder, pulled her closer, she bit his lip and tugged, finally, finally- her leg wrapped around his and-and-

-he suddenly felt the balance shift, the tables turning, control slipping out of his grasp as she flipped them over, slamming him down with considerably strength, a hand clamping down over his mouth, her hair spilling over her shoulders as she looked towards the door, frantically sputtering, “ _S-Stop_ , I-I need to-“ reaching a hand out towards the door, golden eyes glazed over with a dull sheen from the drug.

He let out a muffled gasp of surprise, lips parting, tongue running along her index and pressing his incisor against it, dizzied by the new wave of desire brought by her on top of him. “I need find him-” she slumped against him slightly, the sedative kicking in, and he tugged her closer with a small groan, her hand shifting to painfully grip the underside of his jaw, nails digging in, eyes flashing to him. “Let me go,” she commanded. 

* _I’m afraid I can’t do that, my Ren_ * he thought, tilting his head back to expose his neck, submitting to her even though he was still in control, all three of them involved in an elaborate game of chess. Her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, knees on either side of him, straddling him, wrenching him closer as she snapped, "We have to find him-”

{And do I dream again, for now I find}

"We don’t * _have_ * to do anything. Trust me, you’re probably better off without that wolf.” He laughed darkly, eyes flashing as he leaned up on his elbows, Lauren’s gaze flashing from him to the door and then back. “He’s my _partner-_ “ Lauren whispered, looking so incredibly _sad_.

{The Phantom of the Opera is there}

* _We can’t have that, can we?_ * He thought with a surge of envy. 

The Purple Hyacinth had ruined his life already, and even distorted the love of his life. They were so dysfunctional, how dare she call him her _partner_ what he should be nothing less but her _subordinate_. 

* _We could be gods, you and I, Ren._ * he thought, eyes narrowing as he stared intensely at the enchanting enigma that was Lauren Sinclair, * _Why are you dabbling with someone so sickeningly flawed, so horribly *_ **_human_ ** _*. Don’t worry, he’s confused you, that’s all. I’ll show you,*_ he thought with determined desperation. 

{Inside my mind}

His thoughts turned over and over again in his head, the smoke from the jealous flames coursing through him suffocating him with fury, warring with his shredded sense of self control. Lauren was _his_ , Kieran had taken so much from him, taken so much from the world, he wouldn’t take her from him too. * _She’s mine, not yours_ * Dylan thought again, enraged, tears blurring his vision, forcing him to close his eyes as Lauren glared at him with that golden gaze he had obsessed over so much day and night, begged for a camera with color just so he could capture their honeyed hue. _Her “Partner_.” 

“ _No. He’s. Not._ ” He said coldly, hands shaking as he surged upwards, a hand grabbing onto her hair, wrenching it back to distract her as he leaned up and whispered in her ear, “He’s _using_ you.” - _he doesn’t care about you_ he wanted to say, but Lauren would’ve detected the lie, so he pulled away enough so their fiery gazes could clash, a silver and golden inferno, hissing the words against her lips, “Do you think he * _cares_ * about you?” a mad glint flashed in his eyes as he barked out a cruel laugh, framing each of his words in a way that dodged her ability. “Oh please, Ren, don’t _lie_ to yourself.” She stared back, defiant until the end. 

He ran a tongue over his bottom lip, fighting back a groan from her expression alone, laughing as he shifted closer, saying, “If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have been at my doorstep dying from golden viper venom. He’s _dangerous_ .” He sighed, gently brushing his fingers against her throat, remembering the bruises on there he had seen when she had staggered out of the forest, looking so incredibly afraid, the click of his camera shutter echoing in his mind as he connected the dots, her breath catching, pulse jumping. “What has he done to you?” He whispered, grabbing gently onto her throat to test his theory as he rose up, forcing her back down, pinning her to the marble, straddling her as she struggled, fear lighting up in her eyes. “Dylan let go of me-” she rasped, as if she couldn’t breathe, puzzling and enraging him all the same. “Dylan, stop, please, I can’t breathe, I can still feel his grip- I-,” she begged, eyes wide and golden as stars. He didn’t choke her, gently brushing a thumb over the curve of her neck in a slitting motion, warning her of how Kieran could kill her in an instant if orders decreed, pulling and tugging the strings Lauren danced on, even though they had twined around himself as well. Kieran, the phantom’s scythe perfect little assassin, would dance with death herself under the light of the moon as long as it fitted his scrappy excuse of a moral compass that adhered to the Leader’s rules. * _Unlike me. I’d burn down the phantom scythe, hell, the whole of Ardhalis if it would make Ren mine, regardless of the Leader’s orders. We may both be monsters, but I’m not a part of their machine, I’m only a malfunction that’s too valuable to eradicate. I survived being framed for defying them once, who’s to say I wouldn’t survive truly defying them, and for love?*_

He didn’t know if what he felt for Lauren Sinclair, 10 years later, was lust or love, but it had driven him out of his mind, her name the last remnants of his sanity when he was beaten down again and again by the Phantom Scythe physically and psychologically, and he decided he would take whatever he could get. He was tired of people taking things from him. She’d follow him all the way to the graveyard, even if it dragged her under, and he, the ghost once lost, would come alive once more at her touch. It was time he took what he wanted for himself. 

{Sing once again with me our strange duet}

Succumb to me, stop thinking of * _him_.* Smoke and mirrors, clouding their judgement, drawing them both deeper into his illusion. 

{My power over you grows stronger yet}

" _Shh_ ...” he brushed his lips against hers, silencing her plea, “You don’t need to be scared of me,” ...* _but Kieran should be_ *.

{and though you turn from me, to glance behind}

“You’re mine, ...all... mine,” he whispered, drowning out a whimper with a harsher, more possessive kiss, her hands trembling as she helplessly held him closer, her hand running down his back, other pressing against his chest as if she were trying to shove him away, but fingers fisted in his shirt as if she wanted nothing more than for him to stay. He obliged the latter desire, the kiss suddenly tasting of salt, no- _tears_ , and his eyes fluttered opened to see her lying supine, eyebrows furrowed, lips parting for him as he pleasured himself with another open mouthed kiss, languorously easing her back against the marble, feeling her grip loosening, actions faltering, groaning softly before she went limp, weak from the drug. He detached his lips from hers, kissing her forehead gently, “It’s alright, rest for a while, won’t you?” * _Once I get rid of Kieran, I’ll have all the time in the world to make you mine.*_

{The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind}

He got off of her, priorities shifting, his temperature seeming to plummet, shivering, the warmth of her intoxicating embrace leaving him cold, but feeling as if he were positively radiant. He picked up his perfectly patched cap and put it on, the hat casting a shadow over his face, a half mask of deception. Her eyes fluttered open halfway, still awake, and she reached out towards him, as if stuck in a deceitful dream, breathing shallowly. 

{Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear}

“D-Don’t leave me again, Dylan-” she rasped, eyes flickering and then dimming. He seized her wrist in his hand with the missing finger, and she gasped, eyes opening slightly and noticing the missing digit, dizzied by his harsh grip around her wrist. He let the fragment of a second pass before he hastily pressed a rough kiss to her hand, saying, “I’ll be back,” with a sanguine smile, adding, “Don’t miss me too much.” She winced at the memory of when he said those words last, and at last closed her eyes, the fight dying from her as she fell unconscious. 

{I am the mask you wear}

* _Stay in the slumber and solace of the summertime..*_

He turned, Lauren sprawled over the stone, hand limp, lips twisted in a frown, bruises decorating her neck and shoulder, a cut on her lip, chest rising and falling imperceptibly, dark circles like half moons caught in the sun’s eclipse rimming underneath her eyes, vivid red curls looking like blood against the cold marble. It was almost as if he had drained all of the light and life from her and taken it for himself. 

{It’s me they hear}

He shoved the slight pang of regret and disgust at himself to the side. Frankly, he didn’t _care_ . He just knew what he _wanted_ , and when the world gave him nothing in return for his dreams, he took what he did and didn’t deserve himself, even if it turned his life into nothing but a delusional dream, it would be better than a _nightmare_.

{Your spirit and your voice in one combined}

_He was at the point of no return_. He turned towards the door, eyes turning cruel. 

{The Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind}

He set down his cap, deciding against it, and walked to the greenhouse, passing through rows of deadly nightshade, of oleander and belladonna, of Wolfsbane, foxglove, and larkspur. The list went on and on as his footsteps echoed down the hall, light filtering in from the windows and turning his eyes starlit silver. He paused, eyes flashing to the door to his personal space, kicked off of its hinges.

{He’s there, the Phantom of the Opera.}

He stormed inside, eyes blazing with fury. His journal was gone, daisy crowns scattered every which way, crushed underfoot, a purple hyacinth atop the desk. He braced both hands on his desk, inhaling deeply and wrenching his hair back with a hand, giving a crazed laugh, pushing up his sleeves. “How _dare_ he,” he snarled, shaking, fighting back a scream, tears blurring his eyes. 

{Beware the Phantom of the Opera}

No wonder he had taken so long to return. He stood, composed himself, and then whirled, storming out and breaking into a sprint, ripping out a few orchids from their neat arrangements and tearing their delicate petals to shreds, tossing them to the ground, remembering and reminiscing on the days everything seemed right. Stargazers stared at him as he ran by, red and white roses blossoms seemed like a slap to his face, moonflowers mocked him, blossom after blossom increasing his fury as he charged out the greenhouse, chest heaving as he stumbled into his room, the darkroom illuminating the disturbances every which way. 

{In all your fantasies, you always knew}

He bared his teeth in a scowl, seeing many of his photographs were missing, tearing off his jacket and ripping his shirt off over his head, revealing his toned spectral white skin to the monochrome photographs that watched him with disdain. He wrenched open a cabinet, shrugging on a new shirt, a medical lab coat, quickly changing his attire, wrenching on a pair of gloves. He wouldn’t be facing Kieran as his old friend before the Allendale Tragedy. He wouldn’t approach him as Lauren’s Dylan either. He wouldn’t come to him as his perfect poisoner pal, a white rose with all the colors drained from him, a ghost to be tossed to the side after final sympathies were given. No, he would show his true colors, the true darkness that had festered within the seemingly pure petals of his falsified facade. He would be _Hemlock._

{That man and mystery were both in you}

He took out a scalpel, laughing in sinister delight, and pocketed it before grabbing his camera, running his hands through his hair like a madman, wincing as his hair brushed against the stub of his missing finger. Kieran would pay, dearly, and Dylan would enjoy every second of his suffering. 

{and in this labyrinth}

He grabbed a letter he had prepared the night before, hidden in the vase of roses, nearly storing it into his pocket, a crimson spotted white rose blossom boutonnière completing the look. 

{where night is blind}

He uncorked a few bottles of poisons, using a medial stopper to take his small daily dose of each, wincing as each poison wracked through him. Mithridatism wasn’t easy, but it was a necessity in his line of work. Plus, he was sure Belladona would pay him a visit. He adjusted his gloves, pocketing a syringe with a tranquilizer, some anti-poisons, and some swift killers in case it was necessary, and then stalked out the door, making sure to lock Lauren in the operation room in case she woke up. * _Once a detective, always a detective. You can never be too careful.*_

{The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind}

He looked over his shoulder once, and then stepped out the door into a winter day, hair the color of snow and white lab coat allowing him to blend into the snowfall of the crisp day, breathing in the frigid air and exhaling, the frost biting into his skin and coating him in an instant, a specter hidden in a snowstorm, a phantom walking in broad daylight, a ghost gliding in the light of the living. 

His coat flourished, boots crunching in the snow, hands stuffed into his pockets, sauntering, chin up, teeth flashing in a grin stuck on his face permanently as permafrost as he made his way towards the area of town where the Circus Royals had begun to set up their tents. The snow was beginning to slow, the sun glinting off of the ice and blinding him slightly, squinting as he neared the Circus, still in the city. They hadn’t begun performances yet, but they were in town, which gave him the perfect place to store his prisoner once Belladonna had gotten him. 

He paused, seeing a few Alpine forget-me-not wildflowers growing nearby on the street. He dropped to a knee, seeing his reflection in the ice growing nearby the patch of grass. He didn’t know forget-me-not grew here. “Quite remarkable, to be able to not only _survive_ in the winter… but to _grow…”_ he stared, kneeling on the snow, reaching out to the spring, the wildflower that could thrive in the tundra. 

“Wouldn’t we all love nothing more than to be… _Unforgettable…_ ” 

He stiffened, capturing her amber gaze in a heated side glare. “Belladonna Davenport.” 

Decked out in her usual stunning attire, her heels had managed to not made a single sound as she stalked up beside him, movements languid, the wind whipping her pink hair into the air, diamond earrings dangling from her ears and glittering in the light of the sun, lips painted a ravishing, ravaging red, amber eyes flickering like a wildfire. 

“I did your little favor for you, Hemlock,” she hummed in a sing-song voice, pointing a finger at him, “You _owe_ me,” she flashed him a seductive smile, stepping in front of him, looking him up and down, a hand falling on the elegant curve of her hip. 

{Floating, falling, sweet intoxication}

“However may I repay you?” Dylan inquired, grinning suggestively as he looked up at her.

{No use resisting}

“You could go ahead and start here, considering you’re already on your knees for me,” she said with a smirk. His senses distorted slightly. 

{Abandon thought}

Dylan laughed, almost nervously as he rose to his feet, brushing some snow off of himself. “Not today unfortunately. I have _business_ to tend to, as you very well know, wildflower.”

{Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in}

Davenport’s eyes flashed with irritation, the way they did whenever she didn’t get her way and she abruptly grabbed his shirt collar, dragging him alongside her, Dylan stumbling after her, sputtering, “Bella, wait-”

“Dylan, darling, you really do test my patience sometimes,” she hissed, eyes flashing with something akin to delight as his eyes flashed with fear. 

{Your chains are still mine, you will sing for me}

“I didn’t mean-” she shoved him into the nearest alleyway, “to offend,” he rasped as she slammed him against the wall and wrenched him closer, shutting him up with a merciless kiss, nails ruthlessly tangling through his white curls and tugging his head back. “Do I scare you?” Her knee pressed between his legs and he groaned against her lips in something like affirmation, and she kissed him harder, experienced lips having him clawing at her in an instant, something about her intoxicating in the way that once she tasted him, she had him begging for more. Even though the only one he truly wanted was Lauren, dabbling with Davenport was always entertaining for the both of them, although she always seemed to take more from him than the other way around. 

He was easily satisfied with a single skilled savage kiss from Belladona, but with Ren, he wanted it all. With Lauren, with… it… it was hard to think of her when Belladona, _Belladona_ was looking him up and down as if she were figuring out how best to manipulate him before eventually tossing him to the side, nothing but another one of her puppets. She tore off his lab coat in an instant, the buttons already undone, forcing it from his shoulders and it fell to the ground as she grabbed onto his charcoal undershirt, forcing him closer to her, Dylan helpless to do anything but cling to her, dark eyebrows furrowing.

With most things, Dylan liked to be in control, but Bella reminded him he could be broken, could be punished for his consequences, and he relished it, eyes going half lidded as she toyed with the buttons to his shirt. Her eyes were open, studying him even as their lips were inches apart, in complete control of the situation, Dylan hopelessly distracted, easily dazzled by his own reckless desires running rampant. 

{What rich desire unlocks its door}

“You thought you could deny me? That’s cute. You don’t win me, you survive me, honey,” she snarled against his lips, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Know your place, Hemlock.” She was so _distracting_. Perhaps that’s why he partook in Belladona’s elaborate games, a gamble that he was destined to lose, but the satisfied smirk on her lips drove any semblance of sanity away. He didn’t have to be perfect with Belladona, he didn’t have to treat her like a delicate flower without its thorns. She could ruin him as she wished and it wouldn’t even affect either of them. To her, he was just another man to toy with, and plus she played with him more than she dared with the Purple Hyacinth, so he definitely liked her more for that. 

{Let the dream descend}

Dylan tilted his head back in submission, gasping for breath but giving a sly grin as Bella shifted her hips closer to his, looking up at him from her eyelashes. “Now, where’s my _actual_ payment.”

{Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind}

“Golden viper vials have already been delivered to your doorstep. Undiluted. Along with some incriminating photographs of some phantom scythe members you requested… and I’ll get you some pictures of Kieran as a favor for your favor.” 

“Wonderful,” she remarked with a smile.

“One more thing,” he grinned, bending over and reaching for his lab coat, even with Bella pressed up against him, one of her eyebrows rising in suspicion, whipping out her golden viper blade. “I have to give you something else,” he explained, taking out the letter he had written, the letter in case everything went wrong, but she couldn’t open it just yet. 

{In this darkness you know which you cannot fight}

“What is it?” She purred, storing her dagger away, eyes hungry for a secret she could steal, grabbing at it, but he lifted it out of reach so she had to draw closer to him. Sure, he was usually submissive towards her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t play with her too. If she was a snake, he was a snake charmer, telling her exactly what she wanted to hear and giving her whatever she wanted, toying with her just enough to keep her invested. 

He paused, contemplating it for a moment. He kept contradicting his own opinions of himself, yet then again, he had always liked a good puzzle, not for the satisfaction of figuring it out, but the confusion and chaos it created from its distortions of reality. He was an illusionist, a wielder of smoke and mirrors, a magician, and Belladona was but a wildfire… If Lauren was the spark to an inferno raging against injustice, Belladona a wildfire, a wildcard, a wildflower, while he was the shadows of the flames and the smoke that followed, and Kieran was the ash that remained. 

Davenport and Dylan were both manipulative in their own twisted ways, and they both took things they didn’t deserve. He didn’t have to worry about silly morals or humanity with her. He could be cruel and wicked and she would laugh about how adorable he was. Belladona reminded him that no matter how horrible Dylan seemed, she was crueler, and much better at any game she played. She wasn’t a gambler, she was a wildcard. Free to do whatever she wished, whenever she wished, however she wished... and the two of them had both been overshadowed to a degree. Mutual dislike went a long way to draw people together, although Bella had more of a respectful rivalry with Kieran, while Dylan had nothing but pure, inescapable hatred for his former friend.

{Past all thought of right or wrong}

Dylan stood on his toes, laughing as Bella clawed at the piece of paper in his hand, which he lifted high above her reach. She glared at him from eye level, and slapped him hard across the face, leaving him gasping, hand securing around his wrist and wrenching it down as she forced her lips to his again. “Give it,” she snarled, hitting him again, backhanding him this time, nails leaving behind bloodied scratches in their wake, and he groaned against her mouth, their tongues tangling as she tried to pry the paper from his hand. He bit her lower lip, and in retaliation she pinned his hip against the wall, running a hand down his thigh, until he released the paper and she pulled away, leaving him panting. 

“You taste like my namesake,” he rasped, fixing his tousled hair as she stepped away from him, doubling over as he breathed heavily, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. It didn’t feel as cold anymore at least. 

“Well what better way to coat a seductive red rose lipstick than a white hemlock sheen for anyone who dares to try. I’m afraid I’ll be your downfall if you keep this up, Dylan,” she teased, pocketing the letter, taking out her golden viper venom and tossing it in the air before catching it. 

“Ah ah ah, don’t forget your tricks don’t work on me,” he stated with a smirk, standing up and straightening, suddenly glad he remembered to immunize himself today.

“Oh I wasn’t talking about Mithridatism. I can ruin you with unpoisoned lips easily if you continue to be as desperate as you were today. That is unless that Sinclair girl kisses better than me by any chance,” she said, crossing her arms, lips pulling up in a smile. 

“No, you two have different... styles..” he coughed, shivering as the frigid wind bit into his skin again, shrugging on his lab coat, eyes casting downwards, face reddening slightly at Belladona mentioning Lauren after having him against the wall moments before. 

_I shouldn’t be doing this. I will have Ren soon, and if she were to find out about my occasional trysts with Belladona that may be problematic._

She interrupted his thoughts with a blade to his throat, amber eyes flicking about his face, something like sympathy flashing in them, stealing the white rose from his medical white coat and replacing it with forget-me-nots she tucked into his pocket neatly. “I’m afraid this is adieu for now, Dylan. If you do get everything you wanted, forget me not.”

“Never, and the same to you. Best of luck, Belladona, and Adieu,” he gave a courteous bow, and she dipped her head in acknowledgement, lifting her chin before she slipped away into the snowy day, heels clicking on the stones lining the street before she disappeared out of sight.

{Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before}

He watched her go, and then turned, shaking off any sentimental thoughts as he headed back to the Circus. When he arrived, a red and white painted stripes decorated a barricade barred his entry, but he simply parkoured over it, a bit sore from the interaction with Belladona, wincing slightly as he landed soundlessly on the snow-covered ground on the other side, crossing over to the main tent areas. 

{Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation}

Piano music drifted out of the circus tent Kieran was located in as Hemlock approached it, camera hanging from his neck, right hand with the missing, no, * _removed_ * finger gently pushing the red and white circus flaps to the side. 

{Darkness wakes and stirs imagination}

Inside the circus tent, Zephyr, clad in white and purple was fixing up Kieran’s chains, perched on the arm of the chair he was seated in, Kieran’s head slumped over, black hair tousled, a bit of blood clumping a bit of it together likely from the blow to the head Belladona delivered, or from his head’s impact with the ground, only sign to him being alive the gentle rise and fall of his chest, shirt torn slightly and trousers scuffed, eyes squeezed shut. Even unconscious, Kieran looked in a constant state of pain and suffering. _Good,_ Dylan thought, with a sadistic smile, _he deserves all the suffering for what he’s done to me_. 

“Welcome, welcome to the Circus Royale,” Zephyr said, stirring him from his savagery, snickering as he wrapped a lock of Kieran’s raven hair around his finger playfully. Apollo was playing the piano in the corner, a calming yet upbeat melody filling the room.

{softly, deftly, music shall surround you ...hear it feel it, closing in around you}

“Thank you, Apollo, Zephyr, you may leave now.”

{turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light}

“Aw you’re no fun, I spent so long securing these chains in a way that still makes him aesthetically pleasing to look at, but I don’t blame you for wanting to put some bruises on him, although we both have entirely different kinds of bruises in mind,” Zephyr sighed wistfully, playing with Kieran’s hair, sitting on the arm of his chair and draping an arm around his unconscious shoulders.

“Stop playing with * _my_ * prisoner,” Hemlock sneered, tugging at his shirt collar and twirling a scalpel skillfully between his fingers of his left hand. Being ambidextrous definitely had its perks.

Apollo, playing diligently at the piano, eyes blinded by a cloth, interjected, “Technically, Davenport is the one who secured your prize, so he’s technically * _her_ * prisoner. She’s just gifting him to you as a pet for whatever reason that may be. Belladona is unpredictable and can turn on you in a split second, never forget it.” 

“Ah, Belladona, my wildcard, my wildfire, my wildflower,” Dylan gave a roguish grin, dimple flashing before his smile dropped. “Nonetheless, my business with her doesn’t concern you,” he added, voice akin to an aggressive growl, a crocodile’s hiss. 

“Very well,” Apollo said as he glared at their direction, fingers striking a final dramatic chord on the piano, shoulders hunching as he flipped his pale hair back, tearing off his blindfold before stalking over to Zephyr, something like bitter jealousy glittering in his eyes. Zephyr grinned at Apollo as he purred, “ _I_ want a pet Kieran. He could draw for me and we could get up to all sorts of mischief together.” 

“In your dreams, Zephyr,” Apollo growled, grabbing his arm and tugging him off of Kieran’s limp figure. Zephyr gracefully slipped out of Apollo’s grasp, smoothly sidling up beside him, watching Apollo’s eyes narrow. as he wrenched Kieran’s head back, forcing the blindfold into Kieran’s mouth, tying it behind his head, securing the gag and intertwining it into the ribbon holding his hair up, making an elaborate design before tying it tighter and releasing him, stalking away. 

“Oo I love your design, very intriguing,” Zephyr noted, smiling as he propped his head up on his hands, elbows resting against the piano he was leaning against.

“Wh- How did you get over there? You were right next to him-” Dylan asked, eyebrows raised as he blinked, once, twice, dumbfounded. They ignored him. 

“Its design is _effective_ ,” Apollo snapped, exiting the tent. 

Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a composing breath, foot tapping impatiently. _I’ve had enough of these morons for today. I can’t even enjoy the fact that The Purple Hyacinth is tied to a chair and I get to do whatever the hell I want to him with their constant babbling droning out my thoughts_ **_._ **

Zephyr followed, sauntering off and winking at Dylan, whose arms were crossed, a dark eyebrow raised, “You know, it’s weird how the color of your eyebrows are different from the color of your hair-“

“Get out.” Dylan snarled, rolling his eyes... as he self consciously touched his eyebrow with his index finger, frowning. 

“Goodbye!” Zephyr said cheerfully, waving at him with a flourish of his hand, who was now tapping his foot impatiently on the ground, jaw set, obviously annoyed. 

Dylan waited until he could no longer hear their receding footsteps, remembering his promise to Belladona and lifting his camera to his brow. His camera went _katcha_ as it snapped a photograph of Kieran’s disheveled, defeated state, stalking over to him and lifting his chin, slapping him hard across the face. Kieran’s head slumped back down, still unconscious. Dylan cackled out a laugh, taking another picture, propping him up a few in different positions with many different angles Bella would enjoy very much, but taking care not to mess up his chains. 

That would most definitely do. 

He removed his camera from his neck and set it down on the piano, noticing his personal journal was there as well. He flipped to the front page, eyes widening, seeing Belladona’s handwriting gracing the page. “Oh this diary is absolutely _delicious,_ Dylan, but don’t worry, I’ll keep yor secrets safe. Kieran had gotten a hold of it and he dropped it when I knocked him unconscious. Have fun tormenting him, but I’d like it if you left him alive, he’s always been an enjoyable rival to play with. Still, a favor is a favor. Have fun.”

_Tsk._ He gritted his teeth.

Hemlock flipped through his journal, scowling deeply. Snooping through his apothecary and reading HIS personal diary, entitled to everything just because he apologized for every victim, oh, such a saint he was. _The_ Purple Hyacinth. Well look at him now, in chains. The reversal of positions was delicious. He glared at his missing finger, grabbing a bottle of ammonia and wafting it towards Kieran’s nose. He lurched awake, eyes flying open, and Dr. Hemlock let out a low, dark chuckle, his white locks of hair forming a halo about his head like an angel ready to punish a demon for his sins. Hemlock had left his perfectly patched brown cap, his mask that hid his true colors at home. He was free to be the phantom they feared, and for today, this circus tent was his opera house.

{Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor}

His grey eyes flitted about, a crazed glint hiding behind his cold and calculating demeanor. He snapped on a pair of black latex gloves as Kieran struggled, testing his restraints, studying him as a scientist looked upon a test subject. 

{Let the dream begin}

“My, my, how the tables turn.”

Kieran glared at him, unfazed, and he gave a wicked laugh, smug satisfaction dancing in his stormy silver eyes. 

{Let your darker side give in}

He turned, setting down the ammonia, adjusting his glove and glaring at him through the corner of his eye, eyes dimming. "Oh I hope you don’t mind, as retribution for you looking through my personal diary, how _rude_ of you, by the way,” he added, venom dropping off of his words, a sly smile crossing his features as he continued, turning around so he fully faced him again, “I took a picture of your unconscious figure without your permission.” He laughed at himself in a sinister but jovial way as if he told the most hilarious joke in the world, and an inside joke at that. “It was just, a small little favor for Belladona, you could say.”

Kieran let out a muffled enraged scream, spouting out gibberish behind his gag as he thrashed against his bindings, eyes narrowing furiously. 

{Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender}

Hemlock stepped back, looking perfectly amused at his incoherent babbling, storing away his journal in a large pocket in his lab coat, and adjusting his gloves once more, giving a sinister laugh as he turned around, stepping closer. “Oh, the almighty Purple Hyacinth. Let me guess what you’re trying to say.... hmm... I’m assuming it comes with a sorry? All you ever do is apologize,” he backhanded him hard across the face, the blow harsh, _severe_ , taking out a steel scalpel from the interior pocket to his lab coat as Kieran’s head snapped to the side, eliciting a muffled gasp. His head hung down after the initial impact, taking a few deep breaths to compose himself, raven hair escaped from his ribbon falling in his face as he strained against the chains, closing his eyes as the impact ricocheted through him. He looked up, mask falling back into place, giving Dr. Hemlock a death glare of electric blue, his hands curling into fists, hatred burning in his eyes. 

{Hearing is believing, music is deceiving}

“Well, well,” Hemlock sneered, twirling the sharp steel scalpel between his four fingers, before dropping to a knee and stabbing the blade down on the armrest of the chair, in between his index finger and thumb, the chair shaking from the impact, Kieran not even flinching. “Let’s play a little game, shall we?” Dylan remarked with a wicked laugh, his storm grey eyes flashing with a smug, sinister glint, brimming with silver satisfaction.   
  


{Hard as lightning, soft as candlelight}

“Let’s begin.” He slashed off Kieran’s gag with the scalpel, deciding it would be more amusing to let him speak, the blade splitting down the middle of Kieran’s lip as he did so. Kieran let out a muffled scream, despite being mostly numbed to the pain, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them, tongue running over his bottom lip, wincing. 

{Dare you trust the music of the night?}

Kieran’s eyes glazed over as he got over his intial shock, raising an eyebrow. “You really think any of this can scare me?” He deadpanned, blood dripping down his lip and down his neck, eyeing Dylan as he ripped out the scalpel, just to stab it down into the wood between the spaces between two more of Kieran’s fingers, chopping slowly between them, eyes never leaving his as he gradually increased his speed. 

“ _Fear…_ ” Dylan’s eyes dimmed, “Do you _remember_ ? Do you remember how I begged you to stop, how I told you I was innocent and how you didn’t listen? You knew Belladona had been the one to orchestrate that whole thing, you knew it was her, yet when Sake blamed * _me_ *, I was your closest friend, and you repeatedly discarded me into the shadow of your glory, and _this_ was the final straw.” He tore off his glove and gestured to his missing finger, hair wild, eyes wide and crazed, teeth bared. 

Kieran stared at him emptily, “ _You_ created the poisons intended for the munitions workers, Hemlock. You’re lucky the leader ordered for you to be given a simple thief’s punishment, he ordered me and Belladonna to ...get _rid_ of all the rest. Your missing finger served as a reminder of the role you played, regardless of your innocence of involvement,” he said calmly, rolling his eyes.

_How dare he treat this as if it were nothing._

“You’re not mad at the punishment, your war is with me. Your whole shadow speech proves that you’ve just been jealous of my skill as an assassin, instead of focusing on your own talents, all you’ve ever done is compare yourself to _me.”_

Dylan twirled the scalpel, jabbing the hilt of it hard against the back of Kieran’s hand in a warning, eliciting a soft hiss of pain, his fingers flexing, before twirling it back around and continuing to stab it through the spaces between his fingers, _chop, chop, chop_ , much faster this time. “ _You_ understand _nothing_ of what it’s like to live life on the sidelines. The sorrowful stargazer, sketching your soul out as if it could redeem you for your sins. Need I remind you what the Phantom Scythe does to _traitors_ , I’m sure they’d be pleased I found one of the members of La Lune, the mysterious duo threatening to take them down, was their prized Purple Hyacinth.”

“-KAHAHAHAHA!” Kieran broke into a fit of laughter, throwing his head back, the laughter pained and forced, soulless and terrifying, a thousand things at once, agonizingly amused. 

Dylan angrily dragged his tongue over his teeth, eyes blazing. “What?! WHAT’S SO FUNNY?!” He grabbed Kieran’s jaw in his hand, nails digging in, forcing his gaze to his, storm grey clashing with electric blue. 

“You’re not going to do that. One, if the Scythe finds out from you, are you _so_ sure they’ll believe you?”

Dylan’s cheek twitched, a murdering expression burning in his eyes. 

“Furthermore,” Kieran said with another fit of raucous laughter, “if you expose _me_ , you’ll end up exposing _her_. Do tell me, Rosenthal, how long have you known Lauren for?” He asked cooly, level headed, a suave demeanor to how he relaxed back in his chains, glaring down at Dylan as if bored.

“ _10\. Years._ Figure it out, smart*ss,” Dylan snarled coldly, seeing the gears turning in Kieran’s mind as he analyzed him. _Damn. Lauren and him are so similar_ . “As for the poisons used in the incident, need I remind you they were poisons that DAVENPORT stole from my apothecary and sorted out to each of her puppets. YOU don’t get to change the subject when YOU are the one in _chains_ ,” Dylan sneered, desperately trying to reign in control of the situation. * _Why do I feel like I’M the one being interrogated?*_ he thought, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow as he continued chopping the scalpel between Kieran’s splayed out fingers, slightly slower now, considering he wasn’t as skilled in it, and if he got rid of all of Kieran’s fingers and Lauren happened to see it would be rather ... _problematic_.

_Maybe I didn’t think all of this through. Impulsive, reckless, hypocritical and contradictory of myself, just like you, Ren._

“You had a responsibility to guard them, then. If someone stole one of my katanas and slit my throat they’d applaud them for their skill, it’s not my fault you were... oh, how does Bella like to put it? _Incompetent_.” He smiled. 

“Davenport’s antics are forgivable, she’s always likes to let chaos unfold so she can manipulate the variables. Now the leader trusts her even more, and I am but an outcast, shamed and a shadow on the sidelines, and you are the one who did this to me.” He hissed, lifting his hand, which was shaking, showing Kieran the missing digit once more, his scalpel in his other hand nicking the side of Kieran’s ring finger. He stared back with unfazed eyes of electric blue. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did you want me to disobey the leader for you? Give me a damn break, if you were in my shoes you would’ve done the same, and you would’ve done it gladly.”

“And did you? Do it gladly?”

Kieran’s smile dropped, replaced with a frustrated frown as he shifted in his chains, looking so incredibly _sad_ . “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t? Would you even _listen_ if I told you I regret it?”

Dylan closed his eyes, fighting back the tears of terror that threatened to rise, shaking. He was the victim here, not Kieran, he was the one there chained to the chair all those days ago-

[[{Masquerade}

Dylan’s eyes wide as he woke up, eyes flashing around the room, always the logician, looking for the exits and the amount of people in the room, the _people_ in the room, the room itself, taking in all the details and deciding on a course of action, lurching to his feet- just to find he was chained to a chair. He looked up, terror shining in his silver eyes as the Messenger stared at him behind his plague doctor mask. Even then, the infection had begun to fester within him, and perhaps Dylan was having too deep a nightmare. 

“Messenger, I don’t understand why I’m here in the torture chamber. What did I do wrong?” He choked out. 

{Paper faces on parade}

“Doctor Hemlock, you are here for your involvement in the incident in which you created poisons hidden in wines ammunition workers gifted to their superiors and messengers as an act of rebellion against the Scythe. Some workers took the poisons themselves, the rest we have gotten rid of, only leaving you.”

“Who told you this? I had no part in any rebellion-”

“Belladona Davenport reported it to us. Their poison of choice was hemlock, a poison I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“I know how it kills, and I know there’s no cure, and yes I have created enough vials, but I haven’t had any part in this, I swear, Belladona must’ve assumed-”

The Messenger ignored him, droning on. “You’ll need an Operation as a result.” Just a fancy word for torture. 

{Hide your face so the world will never find you}

The door opened, and the Messenger turned, the ghastly white mask staring soullessly at the two who walked in. 

{Masquerade}

Kieran rushed in, eyes wide, locking on Dylan’s, before flashing back to the Messenger. Belladona had her arm around his, whispering something in Kieran’s ear, and he shook his head frantically, murmuring something to her.

“Kieran?” He whispered, hope shining in his eyes. “Bella, the poison wasn’t me, I swear-”

Kieran’s blue eyes dimmed, Davenport releasing his arm. The messenger murmured something to Kieran and he frowned, nodding. Bella didn’t say anything. When the Messenger and Kieran weren’t looking, Belladona smirked at him, amusement glittering in her amber eyes, crossing her arms and mouthing “ _I dare you.”_

{Look around there’s another mask behind you}

It was then he _knew_. Belladona was framing him, and he had no choice but to comply. His eyes widened in further horror as Belladona leaned up to give Kieran a kiss on the cheek, saying “You’re going to be ok, remember this is for his own good,” even as an agonized expression crossed his face. 

_No._

Kieran nodded, and Bella walked out, blowing Dylan a kiss and winking as if they were in on a secret, hips swaying as she stepped out the door, slamming it shut behind her. 

{Masquerade}

“Oh, I have all my fingers,” Kieran started, twirling a dagger in his hand, the small blade looking crueler than his usual katanas as he dropped to a knee before Dylan, grabbing his wrist and pinning it down, splaying out all his fingers of his right hand. 

“Kieran,” Dylan warned, shaking slightly from fear, eyes narrowing. 

“The knife goes chop, chop, chop,” Kieran chanted, giving a soulless laugh that hid his darkest emotions, his secret suffering, the knife staring down between the fingers, Dylan fighting to keep his hand still, not daring to move, not daring to breathe in case the Purple Hyacinth would miss his mark. 

“Listen to me, it _wasn’t_ me, it wasn’t _me_ -” Dylan said carefully, eyes wide as Kieran skillfully chopped the knife between his fingers, eyes looking up to glare at Dylan, not even looking at his hand as he picked up his pace. 

“It wasn’t me!” He screamed, eyes wide, straining against his chains, looking up from his hand and up to Kieran and down again. 

“If I miss the spaces in-between my fingers will come off,” Kieran continued, the Messenger watching in the background. 

“Why don’t you believe me?!” Dylan roared, losing his composure as Kieran’s hand picked up speed, the blade blurring as it chopped rapidly between his fingers. 

“Oh, chop chop chop chop chop chop, I'm picking up the speed,” Kieran jeered, ignoring his pleas. 

“Kieran!!!” Dylan screamed, cowering in terror, not caring how pathetic he looked, tears falling down his face, voice breaking as he said, “Kieran, _please,”_ but his friend was nowhere to be found, no, this wasn’t Kieran, this was _The Purple Hyacinth_ , and no matter how sorry he was for it, Dylan was still another one of his victims, another person he hurt.

“And if I hit my fingers then my hand will start to bleed,” he choked out the lines, fighting back the emotions warring in his eyes, breaking into a fit of laughter again to hide his pain-

“You’re nothing but one of their _machines_ ,” Dylan snarled, voice as cold as frostbite, blinking bitter tears out of his eyes. Kieran’s laughter cut off, and his eyes went cold. 

-and with that the blade came down on Dylan’s ring finger. Kieran’s lips curled down in a scowl, darkness flickering in his blue eyes as Dylan let out a choked cry at the initial impact, shock, horror, betrayal, pain, a thousand emotions clouding his silver vision before turning charcoal grey, ignited with nothing but the embers of hatred, for the both of them knew it was not a miss. “ _I’m sorry._ ” Kieran whispered. He was always sorry. Rage burned through him, followed by agonizing pain hitting him in waves that got increasingly worse, one crashing in after the other. Dylan belted out a scream as Kieran twisted the knife in, ripping back until his finger was completely removed, blood spurting from where his finger was attached prior. Splitting, nerve ending pain tore through his hand, up his arm, in his head and in his heart, the pain pounding, throbbing, agonizing. Tears of pain streamed down his face as he eyes shut, panting as Kieran’s footsteps receded and then returned.

He fought back his screams as pain wracked through him, but they spilled out of him anyways, and even as his sanity was torn to shreds he could only think of those golden eyes-

{Eye of gold, true is false}

_Ren, Ren, Ren,_ stay alive for Lauren, stay alive, don’t die, don’t give up, for _her,_ there’s hope you’ll see her again, _she’ll be mine if only I survive-_

As soon as the pain slowly subsided into numbness, his hand was lifted, the flat side of a blade pressed against the missing spot, burning, searing pain lancing through him, screaming in pain, thrashing weakly against his restraints, forcing his silver eyes open to glare into Kieran’s as he pressed the blade, glowing red from the flame it had been heated with, further against his skin until it cut off the blood flow, blood roaring in his ears, gritting his teeth as he gave a final whimper, everything going completely numb, Kieran’s blue eyes dimmed beyond recognition, a red glow flickering in their depths, his raven locks messy, teeth bared as he snarled. “Why are you so surprised?” 

_“_ You’re a _monster,”_ Dylan rasped. 

Kieran recoiled, the burning, searing sensation subsiding, everything feeling so _numb._ He laughed dryly as a horrified look crossed Kieran’s face. 

_Think of Ren, think of the only friend you have in the world-_

{Who is who?}

_She’s gone from me too. I’ll never have her back. Am I even alive?_

As his heart shattered and mended and fell apart again, unchained, and dragged from his chair, he cradled his hand, shaking, blood still dripping from his cauterized finger. The door opened, Belladona walking in as Kieran turned his back on his former friend and stormed out. 

_Yes, you are alive, still alive, stay alive, stay alive for her-_

He reached out his hand, his vision crowding with black spots blooming in his vision, daisies reduced to ash, trembling from the pain, rasping, “ _Ren_ ,” before he crumpled to the floor, Belladona catching him around the waist, hoisting him back up. She gave a coy smile as she said with feigned sympathy, “I’ll take him back to his quarters,” before everything went dark. 

{Ace of Hearts}]]

“Always so sentimental,” Dylan sneered, his heart throbbing, tearing himself from his memories, regret shining in Kieran’s eyes, phantom pain lancing through his hand, tearing the scalpel out of the wood and flourishing it, grabbing the front of Kieran’s collar, baring his teeth in pure rage. 

{Close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth}

“As of right now, I don’t regret it because of * _you_.* Unlike you, I actually care about the blood on my hands, and I’d rather not relive the screams of my victims almost every moment of day and night, even if those screams are yours... but lately, I’ve been wanting to make an exception to the whole “morally killing only when I have to or when I’m ordered to” thing,” Kieran spat coldly.

“Always so _righteous_ ,” Dylan snarled. “Acting like you’re so high and mighty, The Purple Hyacinth, look at you now-“

“You sound like a _broken record,_ Hemlock,” Kieran groaned, rolling his eyes and staring at the ceiling. “Are you done by any chance, Doc?” He quipped. “I do hate _dull_ , boring long talks with a person I’d rather stab than suffer through a conversation with. Your voice is more painful to listen to than actual torture. You think you’re so scary, when you’re really just _predictable_ . It all makes sense now. This has never been about me. It’s been about * _her_ *. It was her at the train station, wasn’t it?” Kieran’s eyes locked on his again, lounging nonchalantly in his chair as if it were a throne, wearing his chains as if they were glittering jewelry afforded to the highest of royalties. 

{And the truth isn't what you want to see

In the dark it is easy to pretend}

“You know _nothing_ ,” Dylan hissed, eyes blurring with tears, crocodile’s tears, that he wiped away furiously. 

“I know what it’s like to chase a dream until everything right and wrong starts to blur... mine was a dream that humanity could be beautiful... but you... you are like her, in a way... chasing an _obsession_ ... but instead of looking to find a ghost and bring him back to life, you were looking to find your lost friend and _control_ her as if controlling someone can give you control over your own life.”

“You’re just jealous,” Dylan sneered, “You know nothing of _love_ ,” he snarled, shoving him back and releasing his shirt collar. 

“You’re delusional,” Kieran spat, disgusted, Dylan not noticing his fingers working at the chains behind him. “And _desperate_.” 

"And you’re a _fool_ ,” Dylan sneered, twirling the scalpel in the air and catching it. 

“In my most humble opinion,” Kieran drawled, and Dylan’s gaze snapped to his, amused by his dramatic antics, smug about the fact that Kieran was likely stalling only to ward off the sharp bite of Dylan’s scalpel, “if you think some poorly secured chains can keep The Purple Hyacinth for long, the only foolish one is _you_.” The chains jangled and fell to the ground, falling in loops around around Kieran’s ankles.

Dylan’s cheek twitched and he backed up a step, eyes widening, and then narrowing as Kieran lurched forward, gracefully slipping from his restraints and making a show of stretching his arms in front of him, knuckles cracking as he shifted into a languid position, sauntering forward. “Amateur,” Kieran said, grin shifting into a murderous scowl, unleashing his turbulent emotions, his fury boiling in his aquamarine eyes, stepping closer, closer, closer.

Dylan shrugged off his lab coat and tore off his gloves, pushing back the sleeves to his shirt, gripping his scalpel in one hand, grabbing a tranquilizing syringe in the other, getting into a defensive stance.

“Your move,” Kieran sneered, beckoning him forward with a finger, “didn’t you always love to play chess?”

“You first,” Dylan growled, rolling his shoulders as Kieran pushed back the sleeves of his tattered shirt. 

“Kahahahaha! You’re just as scrawny and as you were when we would train. Going second, painfully predictable from a self proclaimed tactician like you, _Hemlock._ Mmm _…_ You don’t seem * _scared_ ,*” Kieran laughed as he stalked forward, attempting to provoke him to strike first, not a single weapon in his hands, not like The Purple Hyacinth needed one, anyways. Dylan tamped down his sudden spark of fear, the thrill of the fight giving him a wave of adrenaline as Kieran drawled, "Oh, did you forget? I’m the _Purple Hyacinth._ The reason sane people don’t sleep at night.”

_Who’s the one giving the dull, dramatic monologue now?_ Dylan thought, eyes glittering with rage. 

“Good thing I threw my sanity away a long time ago,” Hemlock chuckled darkly. 

“You should tell my partner that,” Kieran hissed, stalking closer to him. “Maybe she’d reconsider her priorities after knowing her long lost childhood snake was just as much as a monster as me.” 

Dylan recoiled, and Kieran lurched forward, moving faster than a panther’s shadow, grabbing onto his shirt as he collided with him, the two of them grappling for a moment, eyes deadlocked onto each other’s, Kieran’s strength overpowering him, finding himself slammed to the ground in an instant, a boot pressed against his back as he tried to push himself to his feet. Craning his neck over his shoulder to glare at him, he stabbed the syringe at Kieran’s ankle, and he seized Dylan’s wrist, releasing his hold on his spine and flipping him over onto his back, prying the syringe from his fingers in seconds. Dylan lurched forward and feigned a stab out at Kieran’s ribcage in retaliation, and as Kieran moved to block the blow, Dylan stabbed upwards with the scalpel towards his trachea. Kieran rolled backwards, pushing himself off of his hands and jumping to his feet, spinning around to face him and throwing out a punch to the gut that sent Dylan reeling backwards as he ran towards him. Dylan let out a guttural growl, tossing the scalpel to his other hand, Kieran throwing the syringe to the floor and stepping hard down on it, the glass shattering under his foot. He bent down, grabbing a larger shard of glass, and flung it at his face. Dylan ducked to the side, the glass shard almost taking out his eye as it whizzed by his head, turning slightly as he gaped at the glass shard embedded itself into the fabric of the tent flap, a gust of cold wind blowing in. In the fraction of a second, Kieran had managed to whirl around and secure him in a headlock, his famous maneuver, arm wrapped around his throat, pinning his arm down to his side and wrenching his wrist until he dropped the scalpel, the steel blade clattering to the floor. 

The Purple Hyacinth held him close as he whispered into his ear “Sure, you’re _pretty_ ,” Kieran gave a raspy laugh as Hemlock struggled in his headlock, thrashing, eyes crazed as he struggled to breathe, “but I really do hope Lauren realizes you have the charm and charisma of a dead _sardine_. The skill of one too.”

Dylan’s silver eyes flashed with raw rage, snarling through bared teeth, “At least Lauren wants me, unlike you, * _subordinate_.*” Kieran stiffened, electric blue eyes fading imperceptibly, and in that fragment of a second, he rammed his head back into Kieran’s face, elbowing him hard in the gut and escaping Kieran’s hold, slippery as an eel, spinning on his heel and lunging for the scalpel he had dropped. Kieran stepped back, lifting a hand to his nose, frowning coldly at the blood that came away on his finger, looking back up at Dylan, looking almost as if he were bored. 

_*Does he think I’m some nuisance? I’ll show him-*_

He whirled around, scalpel at the ready, and tackled Kieran as he lunged at him again, wrapping his ankle around his leg to throw him off balance, Dylan using his momentum to bring them both down. They crashed to the ground, Dylan managing to pin down Kieran with a clever maneuver, stabbing down at Kieran’s jugular. Kieran laughed, catching his wrist. Dylan’s arm shook as he tried to bring the blade down, but Kieran’s grip tightened, smirking, “You’re aiming to kill, yet your actions show you’re intending to maim, however yet you’re failing at both.”

“Debating on how much Lauren would miss you if you were dead. Perhaps she’d be sad she couldn’t kill you herself, truly a pity,” Dylan growled, hissing as Kieran ripped the scalpel out of his grasp, the blade stinging as it sliced into his palm, Dylan crying out in pain.

“Hell, I’d rather die at her hand, she fights much better than you, anyhow,” Kieran sneered, scalpel biting into Dylan’s throat, pricking the skin slightly as he whispered, “At least she’d be a worthy opponent.” _Unlike you._ Dylan rammed his knee upward, straight into the groin, and Kieran hissed in pain as Dylan shoved him off, clever fingers prying the scalpel from his grip and slashing at Kieran. He dodged out of the way, rolling out of the way Dylan stabbed down where his neck would’ve been two seconds ago, but the blade notched his eyebrow, a trickle of blood following. 

“Always playing dirty, Dylan,” Kieran snickered, jumping to his feet and limping forward, trying to hide the fact that it had actually hurt like hell, which sent a surge of sick satisfaction humming through Dylan’s veins. Kieran was distracted, he could tell, otherwise he would have blocked him from delivering such a predictably low blow, and likely sleep deprived and delightfully damaged from Bella knocking him unconscious. He just had to stall long enough for Zephyr and Apollo to hear the commotion… unless they didn’t …

Kieran pushed his dark hair back, baring his teeth. “Enough playing _fair.”_

A bolt of fear shot through Dylan, the murderous look in Kieran’s eyes haunting him. Then, the Purple Hyacinth reminded him that no matter how psychologically and physically damaged Kieran was, he was still a famed assassin for a _reason…_

_And Dylan didn’t stand a chance against him._

{Our games of make believe are at an end}

He lunged forward, and Dylan braced himself, hands curling into fists, swiping out at Kieran with his scalpel, _miss_ , _,_ Kieran dodging to the side, punching out at Kieran’s stomach, _miss,_ Kieran jumping back before lunging forward _,_ delivering an uppercut with scalpel in between his fingers curled into a fist, stabbing upwards, _miss,_ Kieran blocking his wrist with his arm and advancing onwards as Dylan scurried back defensively. _Damn him, how are his reflexes so ridiculously fast?_

Dylan spun around, delivered a roundhouse kick, but instead of connecting with his target, Kieran’s hand wrapped around his ankle, throwing him off balance and tossing him to the ground like a rabbit snared in a trap, the hunter, the _assassin_ dragging him forward, as he fell on his back, _hard,_ the wind knocked out of him, back of his head slamming against the ground, head spinning, world distorted. He sputtered out a stunned cry of pain, weakly stabbing at the hand grabbing onto his leg with his scalpel but Kieran released his leg, grabbing his shirt and hoisting him to his feet, giving a guttural growl as he forced him against the piano, the keys giving discordant, harsh notes that proceeded to resonate around the circus tent. Dylan stabbed at Kieran again, but both hands wrapped around his throat, thumbs pressing against his windpipe and nails digging in. Dylan let out a choked wheeze. “Drop it,” Kieran hissed, eyes glaring into his, choking him harder, Dylan whimpering weakly and dropping the scalpel, giving in. His grip was so strong, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Kieran let go of him with one hand, still holding onto his throat with the other, saying “You’re _pathetic_.”

Dylan spat, “If only Lauren could see you now-”

Kieran punched Dylan in the face, and punched him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and crowding his vision with stars before slamming him against the piano keys again, the sound making his ears ring even louder. 

“Shut up. Shut _up!-”_ Kieran roared, eyes wild, fist pulled back and ready to strike as Dylan feebly struggled, his hands wrapped around Kieran’s wrist, weakly trying to pry him off. His thumb pressed harder against Dylan’s trachea, and he struggled to breathe, silver eyes flickering with the survival instinct warring with the growing numbness, the life being drained out of him.

“Is… is this how you choked her, too?” He rasped, laughing dryly.

Kieran’s breathing turned ragged, like an animal caught in a trap, and he released him at once, Dylan gasping for air like a fish out of water.

Kieran lurched away from him, stumbling back, back, back, shaking, shuddering, faltering. “I- How did you- I didn’t mean to-,” his voice broke as he looked at his own hands, which were trembling, disgust at himself lancing over his face before he backed up, pressing himself against the wall of the tent, hands grabbing into the red and white cloth. He turned, eyes scanning over the stripes, sputtering, “All this blood on my hands, what am I doing, _what have I done-”_ he choked out a sob, pressing a palm to his mouth, closing his eyes. 

“So melodramatic,” Dylan rolled off of the piano, dropping to his hands and knees beside it, grabbing at his bruised throat, panting heavily, shuddering, his left eye starting to swell shut. 

“We heard a commotion, is everything alri- _oh_ ,” Zephyr poked his head in, eyes widening as he took in the scene.

Kieran’s hands went to his hair, tugging on it, reigning in his self control, taking a ragged breath, in, out, in, out.

Apollo grabbed onto one of Kieran’s shoulders, Zephyr grabbing onto the other, both of them forcing him to his knees. He raised his hands, allowing them to bind it again, his eyes opening, looking so devoid of light they appeared a bluish grey, not the dazzling aquamarine of the sea. 

Dylan bared his teeth, getting up, shaking and staggering over to Kieran. “Hold him,” he snarled, tugging his gloves back on, Apollo wrenching his head back by his hair tie.

“The Purple Hyacinth, kneeling before me,” Dylan sputtered, giving a maniacal laugh, Kieran grinning without any mirth, teeth flashing. Dylan delivered a punch to Kieran’s ribs, laughter bubbling out from a dark place within him, the two of them laughing in tandem as Dylan punched again, and again, and again.

“What’s so funny, huh?” Dylan laughed as he backhanded Kieran sharply.

“KAHAHA, you punch weaker than Sake, HAHAHAHA-“

Apollo’s eyes widened, and Zephyr flinched every time Dylan hit Kieran, the two of them sharing a look of pure horror and concern. 

“Is that the best you can do?” Kieran snarled.

Dylan kicked him this time, breaking his nose with a kick to the face, and Kieran groaned, looking up, blood dripping down his nose, a myriad of red cuts and purplish blue bruises painting his pale face.

_And the best part of it all was that Dylan knew Kieran believed he deserved every bit of it._

“I think that’s enough,” Zephyr said, forcing him back into his chair and quickly tying him up with the chains once more.   
  


“Stupid silver sardine,” Kieran spat out, blood dripping down his chin.  
  


“I know torture is supposed to be brutal, but I feel like the leader wouldn’t be pleased with you treating the Purple Hyacinth like this,” Apollo added, looking nauseous. 

“For members of the Scythe, you are all _soft,”_ Dylan hissed. “No one cried for _me_ when my finger got slashed off and cauterized, no one cried for _me_ when my superiors in the Scythe would give me a beating after every time I lost a spar to Belladona and Kieran, which was _every single time_ I sparred with Belladona and Kieran.”

“Pity party,” Kieran sang, and Dylan grabbed onto either of his shoulders, snarling, “I should cut off your tongue. Get out, Apollo and Zephyr.”

“No. You wanted him to do something, otherwise he’d be dead by now. What is it?”

“How perceptive of you,” Hemlock growled, voice dripping with venom, “I need Mr. P.H. to write me a little note for my beloved Lauren Sinclair, but I wanted to give him a sound beating first,” he explained. “And then, I’ll let him go, _promise._ As long as he doesn’t come into contact with Lauren Sinclair until I _say_ he can. Until everything is set into place for our grand _finale_ to this whole fiasco.”

Zephyr and Apollo stayed silent as Hemlock stepped to the side, retrieving his lab coat and shrugging it back on, retrieving the scalpel and kicking the shards of glass from the syringe to the side, stepping back towards him. 

“You don’t _love_ her, you want to _possess_ her _, control_ her _,_ she will _never_ be yours,” Kieran sputtered.

Voice husky from almost being strangled to death, Dylan hissed, “Oh, and _you_ do? You’re just as desperate as me.”

His eyes narrowed and he didn’t respond. 

{Silently the senses abandon their defenses.} 

“You would kill for her, undoubtedly, defy the leader, most likely,” Dylan sneered, steepling his fingers, pacing back and forth, eyes pinned on Kieran’s, “But would you be willing to *die* for her. Now that is the question.”

“Yes,” he choked out, baring his teeth in scowling snarl.

“And why is that?”

“Because I..” his expression shuttered before it shattered, a myriad of emotions pouring forward, his soul on display, his pain on parade. 

_How delightful._

“Say it,” Dylan whispered, eyes flickering with sadistic pleasure, Zephyr and Apollo blending into the background. 

{Silently the senses abandon their defenses.} 

“ _I ..I love her_ ,” Kieran White sputtered, closing his eyes, tears streaming down his face.

A wave of euphoria surged through him at seeing Kieran so vulnerable, so agonized, so ravaged, emotions raw and defenseless, eyes blurred with tears, Dylan recognizing the same pain from when his lips were on Lauren’s, Kieran hovering in the doorway, suspended in horror. 

“Say it again,” he growled, voice frigid as frostbite, staring at him.

“I love her,” Kieran whispered again, giving a light gasp after admitting it, eyes opening, tears forming in his eyes which were shining a dazzling sapphire blue.

“Have you ever told her that?”

“No, and I never will,” he muttered, biting his lip to fight back a whimper, eyebrows furrowing, shoulders hunching. 

Dylan tilted Kieran’s chin up with a finger, clicking his tongue, “Ah ah ah, eyes on me.”

Kieran’s eyes opened, giving him a death glare burning with bitter tears. 

“Now tell me, why won’t you tell her, exactly?” Dylan inquired, holding the scalpel to Kieran’s heart. “B-Because…she deserves much better than a monster like me,” he breathed. “She deserves a life of peace, and all I’ve ever brought her was pain.” 

“Ah. So we understand each other,” Dylan retorted, satisfied. 

“She deserves more than a toxic self-proclaimed victim who has just as much death on his conscience, you just never got your hands stained with blood, no, you always opted for poisons to do the killing for you. You’re just as bad as me. In fact, you’re _worse.”_

_“Lauren_ is _all_ that matters to me. Your words and your apologies are worth _nothing_ to me. Just do this for me or I’ll fracture every finger in your hand so you can never draw again.”

“How do I know you won’t do so anyways?” Kieran snapped.

“You don’t. Also, don’t you worry, _Hyacinth_. She will always be mine. I assure you, when the time comes, Ren will kill you herself.”

{You alone can make my song take flight}

Kieran went silent, glowering at him. Dylan retrieved a piece of paper from his coat, setting it down on the armrest to Kieran’s chair, putting down a golden pen on it, taking off his gloves, Kieran’s eyes resting on the stub remaining of his missing finger before he looked up at Dylan once more. “This is my note, copy what it says in your own handwriting.” 

“What if I refuse?” 

“I had poison on my lips from my practice in mithridatism when I kissed Lauren last night. Don’t worry, nothing lethal. I also drugged her water, and if I don’t get back to her immediately, I’m afraid the sedative and the poison might affect her. If you want me to give her the antidote, I suggest you hurry along, and also, as an added bonus, when Zephyr and Apollo release you, if you try to warn her or tell her anything, I’ll ask Belladona for some more of her _assistance._ Unlike you, I’ll do anything to make her _mine_ , even if it hurts her.” 

Kieran fell silent, eyes widening with rage. “I am going to kill you for this, Rosenthal, and I will do so _gladly,”_ he snarled, “without a _shred_ of remorse. You won’t get away with this.”

_Oh Kieran, save your breath, I already did. She’ll put a bullet through your heart tomorrow, and she’ll finally belong to me._

{Help me make the music of the night}

“Mhm, whatever you’d like to tell yourself. Now shut up before I have Zephyr gag you again.”

Kieran fell silent, picking up the pencil in his hand, hand gripping it so tight Dylan worried for a moment it would snap in two.

“Write,” he ordered. 

The Purple Hyacinth obeyed. 

~

“I’m going to kill him for this,” Lauren snarled, tears streaming down her face as she finished reading the note. She had been waking up just as Dylan returned and had time to change, and as she took in the injuries inflicted upon him and analyzed every detail, he could tell by the murderous glint in her eyes her conclusions were according to plan. He silently had handed her the note, rasping, “Kieran wrote this.” Not a lie.

“What. Happened.”

"Use your deductions, figure it out,” Dylan snapped bitterly, turning away.

She reached out, touching his shoulder. He sighed, looking at her again. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I went after him after you fell unconscious and he attacked me.”

He just didn’t want to risk spouting any lies that would give him away, dabbling in half truths and cleverly worded deception. 

She shot him a glare and then proceeded to continue reading the note. He stepped forward so he was behind her, reading over her shoulder, capturing every spark that ignited in the golden pools of her eyes as she scanned the paper, hands gripping the parchment together, shaking slightly. 

“I can’t believe he’d-I- He’ll pay for this..” she snarled.

Thank the stars she couldn’t tell lies from words written on paper.

“I know, I know,” Dylan said solemnly as he shifted closer, draping an arm around her, hand resting on her chest, index and thumb pressed lightly against her pulse, feeling its war drum beat on and on, pulling her flush against him as he stared into her eyes, whispering, breath cold against her neck, making her shiver, “Lauren... Are you absolutely sure?”

{Past the point of no return}

She tensed, swallowing hard, realizing he was asking if she was actually going to carry through with her death threat, tears blurring her vision, hands curled into fists. "He is a monster.”

{When will the flames at last consume us}

Dylan laughed bitterly, “He has taken much from us, hasn’t he?”

{Beyond the point of no return}

She reached for her pistol, unholstering it, admiring its silver sheen with fierce eyes of ichor. His goddess of the moon, ready to strike down the hunter who had gotten too close to her heart, the raven, but a man who had flown too close to the sun. His gaze turned starry, fingers flexing against her skin, a smile tugging at his lips, teeth flashing in a blinding white. She reached up with her free hand, tangling a hair in Hemlock’s hair, the light seeming to turn the white locks golden as she stared at her pistol, perpetually pensive. He grabbed her wrist, his hand shaking, other palm pressed flat against her beating heart as he shifted behind her, whispering “This is the point of no return, Ren.” The warning was a necessity, but her hesitation made him regret, made him doubt- 

{.... silence... silence....}

“Then so be it,” she said with a shuddering breath, hair a fiery inferno, crowned by a halo of daisies only he could see. * _My angel of music. She was a war cry, she was Justice herself. His champion. I can be king, you can be my queen, and we can rule as gods, in our dreams, in our illusions of gold and silver, together, and you will never leave my side.. just prove this one thing to me, my prodigy, my love, golden laurel leaves mean victory after all, do they not? Kill Kieran for me, My Ren.*_

{That’s all I ask of you}

If he was the god of the sun, she was the goddess of the moon. There was no room for the lonely hunter who had been so starstruck he hesitated for just a moment, altered history, taken the road less traveled by. Well, they all knew what happened to Orion. Gods couldn’t mingle with mortals. His eyes flashed like silver bolts of lightning as he drew her closer, taking a shaky breath, Lauren’s lips parted, looking at him in wonder. The Purple Hyacinth would be reduced to but a constellation blinded by the light of day. 

{I am your angel of music, come to me, angel of music}

No one escaped Artemis’ vengeance. No one escaped Lauren’s path of destruction once it started. Flames flickered in her eyes as she spat, “The Purple Hyacinth has to pay for his crimes...” and then added, softer, “Kieran has to suffer for his sins."

{Why can’t the past just die?}

In Dylan’s opinion, Kieran had suffered plenty. His old friend, who had saved him from the fires that would’ve been his demise.

{You were all that mattered}

Hemlock, on the other hand, disagreed, twisting his heart and distorting reality until his only truth laid deep within his dreams, his obsessive fantasies. 

{Help me say goodbye}

So instead of recoiling with repulsion, retreating from his regrets, his eyes lit up with pride, with power. Lauren Sinclair, his beacon of hope. She gave her mind blindly, and she tested his patience at times, but she was his, and she would put an end to this nuisance once and for all.

{Once again she returns}

“Friend or phantom... assassin or partner... our strange duet drawing to a close... oh, Dylan,” she bit out, tears blurring her vision as she fought out the words that followed,” H-Help me with how to say g-goodbye... I can’t do it, but I’ll certainly try... I-“ 

{No more memories, no more silent tears, no more gazing across the wasted years}

_He was my friend once too,_ he didn’t dare to say. 

_If it wasn’t for me I would’ve never found you again, I wouldn’t be alive to tell you this now. In a way, I owe this all to him, no matter how much I hate him for what he did to me._ Didn’t he always yearn for forgiveness, for redemption? _Well, once you’re dead, I’ll accept your apology. Thank you for your sacrifice._ He thought, trying not to sneer as Lauren choked on a sob for the monster she was to slaughter, holding her tighter to him, lips twisted down in a frown as he watched her closely, desperately drinking in every one of her expressions with his glittering silver eyes. 

{The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn}

"No. You’re right. This is the point of no return,” she repeated, angrily wiping the tears out of her eyes, tearing Kieran’s note in half, Dylan’s power over her increasing in tenfold as she turned in his embrace and hugged him, bringing her lips to his again, the barrel of her pistol digging into his hip. He pulled her closer, the bloodstained scalpel feeling heavy in his pocket. "No more backwards glances...” she whispered against his mouth as she pulled away abruptly, looking at him in awe, his cap atop his head, a sad smile on his lips. Finally, finally, he was so close, he could feel it, he was so close to everything he ever wanted. Her eyes were golden embers ready to incite a fire that would burn the world, and her hair were like bloodstained strings of silk that he grasped at eagerly as a puppeteer, almost completely under his control. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but the illusion was too deep, and there was no turning back now. The point of no return.... and Kieran should’ve known Lauren would always return to him, to Dylan Rosenthal, even if their relationship had been infected by poison, they could both suffer and burn out together until their fires extinguished, silver and ichor, mercury and gold.

{Sing for me}

“He has passed the point of no return,” she snarled, letting go of her pistol with one hand, still holding it with the other, a shaking hand hovering over her throat as she rasped, “It’s time to finally bring The Purple Hyacinth to _Justice_.”

{Sing for me}

Sing for me, Sinclair. _Sing_.

She looked up at him, pupils dilated, swaying slightly as if she were dizzy, hands trembling as she held his face in both hands, a rapid weak pulse thrumming in her veins, and he was paralyzed, paralyzed by her perpetually pensive eyes, his brown cap casting his half mask over his face once more, as if a disguise could hide the distortion of his soul. His heart beat seemed to slow, the two of them ensnared by vines that held the two of them together, dying slow deaths inflicted by the Hemlock of every horror they had lived through, that haunted them day and night. He couldn’t breathe, dazzled by the gold in her eyes, trapped in a labyrinth of lies.

{Bravo, Bravo, Bravissimo.}

The point of no return had passed ever since La Lune began to dance under the stars, since the real Rosenthal had burned in a train station and replaced his soul with rot that had only festered into the white blooms of Hemlock. 

{The show must go on.}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I’m aware this is a Dylan POV but can we have some Kieran appreciation, at least for calling Dylan a sardine 😔✌️


	6. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night (Finale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why was he so surprised?
> 
> Kieran looked at her, a solemn look crossing his features, his hands raised, palms displayed, eyes wavering, a starlit sapphire sea.
> 
> Didn’t he know it’d always end this way?
> 
> Poetry Reference: "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Songs for the Finale:
> 
> The Moment (Tame Impala)  
> Shots (Imagine Dragons)  
> & Die for Me (Post Malone ft. Halsey)
> 
> And here’s a Hemlock jingle for the holidays! 🎄 
> 
> Kieran’s hot  
> Dylan’s not  
> no, that’s kinda a lie,  
> See what happens next on Hemlock  
> And hope no one will die! 🎶 🔔

**_Finale_ **

_  
Chapter 6: Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night_

**Lauren**

Lauren shuddered as she glared down at the note, Kieran’s penmanship obvious through every letter, pain lancing through her, fighting back tears as Dylan read over her shoulder, fighting not to scream. The words replayed over and over again in her head — again and again and again until it drove her insane. She made the same mistakes, it seemed, in her pursuit of “justice” and now they had come back to haunt her, as her partner, _former_ partner, surprised her with every savage sentence.

She had dared to trust him once again. 

And he had shattered it once more:

...

_Dear Lauren,_

_Do you ever LOOK at anything through something other than that cursed ability? You’re clearly more blind than I thought, mon amour._

...In some places the handwriting was jagged, as if he wrote it in a rush, or struggled to do so, but she ignored the small smudges and darker penmanship in some places than others...

_The moment your pathetic childhood friend walked into your life, you threw everything away. No care for the mission, no care for our partnership, no, you just let him play you until you were begging for more. If you were truly so touch starved, you could’ve just asked, but no, the stubborn Lauren Sinclair has been chasing a ghost for years, and now that she finds him, suddenly, nothing else matters._

_Do you know how worried I was for you? I dragged you half-dead to his doorstep begging he would let me in, and yes, I know him, and I’m sure you have already heard some convoluted tale of who he “is” that lets your oblivious little mind believe he’s still the same boy you met 10 years ago. He told me all about you, yet I didn’t put the dots together until I brought you into his apothecary._

_I’m a monster, aren’t I? So let me tell you about the monster that is Dylan Rosenthal. He may seem like a perfect little rose, but he has his thorns, he’s Dr. Hemlock, a poison with no cure; and his little apothecary supplies all of us Phantom Scythe weapons with whatever chemical concoctions we desire._

_Oh, darling, perhaps I should remind you that I’m The Purple Hyacinth. Do you think anyone who associates with me has a_ **_heart?_ **

_Perhaps I should explain where his soul went. It died when I dragged him out of the fire, when we were both thrown into_ **_your_ ** _parent’s car._

_You may notice your_ **_pal_ ** _is missing a digit, and surprise surprise- I did that too._

_You should’ve heard his screams as I slashed through blood and bone, chopping his finger off as if it were a carrot, you should’ve heard how much I laughed when he begged me to stop, that he was innocent of crossing the phantom scythe. This is what happens to monsters like us. We’re broken until we’re nothing but a shell of who we are._

_But perhaps we aren’t as bad as you,_ **_officer_ ** _, who lies to herself about how righteous she is while breaking the law she swears to protect again and again in pursuit of her own selfish desires._

_You never cared to make a difference, you only cared about yourself._

_He told me. Everything. I made him cower in fear and beg for mercy, and all those delicious little details of your little duo before the train station blew up came through._

_You’re so quick to forgive him after leaving you all those years, it’s_ **_sickening_ ** _. You’re so quick to fall into his arms and whisper his name. You’re so quick to say that all Phantom Scythe are scum unless they’re personally important to you. You tossed me to the side, and now that you’ve left me to fall, it’s time you burn with me, too. If I go down, you go down, remember? Since you’ve been blinded by his dazzling display (mere smoke and mirrors, dare I add), it only seems appropriate we finish this disastrous deal once and for all._

_You may call me cruel, but remember I told you if you ever became a direct threat to me, you’d suffer the consequences. You forgot who you’ve been messing with, and I’m done subjecting myself to your disgusting god complex. I was willing to die for you and your friends once, I thought you were human and I thought you were better, but you’re just like all the rest in this corrupted world, and you only care about yourself. I’m doing this to protect myself from any more pain, and if you have any honor you will follow through._

_It’s time we terminate this deal once and for all, darling. Meet me at the train station where this all began. 10:45 AM, not one minute more, not one minute less._

_Your humble subordinate,_

_Beneath, a purple hyacinth was sketched, the signature of his initials sprawling out beside it._ **_~_ ** **_KW_ ** ****

_…..._

Lauren could tell something was off, but it was _his_ handwriting, it was _his_ words, and it’s not like she could _read_ lies. Blinded by rage, she blinked away her tears, blood roaring in her ears. 

{Do not go gentle into that good night}

She lowered the pistol, holstering it as she broke out of Dylan’s embrace, shuddering, the words of the letter seared in her mind.

“I need a moment,” she whispered, turning back to stare into his silver eyes. “I.. I have to go to work...” He nodded, grabbing his cap and flourishing it, stating, “How about we meet up in that coffee shop around your precinct first? It’s been over 24 hours and you haven’t even eaten anything...” Concern furrowed his dark eyebrows.

"Ok... I’ll meet you there.” Maybe she’d just skip today, she didn’t know how she could face Williame’s welcomes, Kym’s playful jests and have to smile at Kieran as if they were-

Kieran.

She forced down the wave of nausea that followed, holding a hand to her throat and sucking in a deep breath, shivering even though she had shrugged on her jacket. Back in her own clothes, sober from the after effects of the golden viper, even though she should feel alive, she had never felt further from it. A hand fell on her shoulder, and it was burning hot. She looked at Dylan, staring at the missing stub of a finger, the bruises decorating his knuckles, a black eye swelling his eye shut, bruises around his throat as well. “Hey... it’s ok...” he wiped a bitter tear that streamed down her face with his thumb. “It’ll all be over soon.”

She tore away from him, managed to offer him a stiff smile. **_No it won’t._ **

Most of the events from the nights before were blurry, hard to remember and too painful to try. She could only keep moving on, but why did she feel such an urgent desire to _escape_?

_Run, Ren,_ a small voice in the back of her head whispered. _Run and never turn back._

“Ren?” Dylan’s words dragged her back from her thoughts, silver eyes staring into hers, trapping her once again.

She managed a small nod before sputtering, “I-I need some space...” it was all too much, too much….

“I understand. I’ll see you in a bit.” He managed a stiff smile. He was tense, for whatever reason.

He escorted her out of the apothecary, and her eyes stared straight ahead, not bothering to look around and about the apothecary, but if she had, perhaps everything would’ve been different…..

{Old age should burn and rave at close of day}

…..Lauren was back in her uniform, but she wore the scarf she had worn on the bridge, even though it didn’t work with the outfit, the scarf she wore when she had smiled at Kieran, when he had promised to find who killed Harvey for her. 

The wind howled as she walked alone down the street, trying not to think of the letter and the heavy weight of the gun holstered to her.

She thought of the closet where he promised not to bring her any more harm, to sacrifice himself for her friends if he had to.

Dylan. He was _alive._ So much had happened.

She tried not to panic. _It will do you no good._

_Don’t panic._

Her gloved hands curled into fists. 

She took the scarf off, studied it in her hands. It was _her_ scarf. Why was she glaring at it with so much hatred?

{Rage, rage against the dying of the light}

She put the scarf back on, a lonely lullaby playing in a shop nearby. She remembered Kym and Will were fond of it.

_Kym and Will._ What she wouldn’t give to run to them, to tell them everything, all for a warm embrace and the reassurance that everything would be ok, but the guilt of hiding everything from them for so long, the selfish nature that wanted her to drag them into this mess, the knowledge _everything being ok would be a lie._

Nothing made sense. She looked to the sky, a red cardinal and a blue jay bickering as they fought midair before flying off. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees, and the snow crunched under her boots, the chill seeping into her skin until she shivered and shuddered. 

She checked her watch. 7am.

The warm glow of the sun on the purple hyacinths growing neatly, the Ardhalis flag billowing in the wind, made her stomach turn as she stepped into the coffee shop, arms wrapped around herself as she walked in.

“Hi, welcome back, how may I help you?” The barista asked, handing a customer beside her their coffee. 

She looked up, tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. “Um, just… a coffee please. Black. And a blueberry scone….and a blueberry muffin.”

She really hadn’t eaten anything. She couldn’t stomach it. 

And as she sat down and thanked him, she stared sourly at the delicious pastries before her, drinking the bitter coffee and wincing as it burned her tongue, burned her throat. She toyed with the muffin, appetite gone even as her stomach roared.

She forced herself to take a bite of the scone, a bite of the muffin.

She closed her eyes. _Mmm_.. 

“This is the best damn muffin I’ve had in my entire life, mm,” she muttered. Lucy’s blueberry pancakes were delicious, but maybe it was the fact Lauren hadn’t eaten in ……

  
  


a while….

that made these two humble pastries taste like the greatest thing in the entire world.

Even the scone was spectacular, and soon enough both pastries were reduced to crumbs. Her eyes scanned around the room, seeing a few men look away, and she rolled her eyes, picking up a newspaper and flipping through it as she sipped her coffee, for a split second, almost forgetting everything that had happened to her-

“Sorry I’m late,” Dylan slipped into the seat across from her and smiled, taking a sip of his own coffee and eating a small vanilla scone in two bites.

Blinding white hair tucked underneath his signature cap. Silver eyes. Alive. Flashing a grin of shark’s teeth, or perhaps only being glad she was ok. _Hemlock._ Who are you, Dylan Rosenthal? She wondered, eyes flickering as she studied him, but her head hurt too much to truly try to decipher him. 

“What’s that look for?” he said in between mouthfuls, taking another sip of his expresso, and then the waiter came over, handing him a raspberry drizzle cheesecake, the bottom layer being that of a brownie. 

_Little did she know, in the corner of the shop, a man holding a newspaper glowered at their direction, Dylan throwing him a cruel smirk when Lauren wasn’t looking. Kieran fixed his white hair tie, continuing to eat his own cheesecake of a different variant and glaring at their direction with eyes that glowed turquoise in the light pouring in from the windows of the cafe, before taking another sip of his coffee before using the newspaper to obscure his face once again,_

She felt sick, and instantly regretted eating the muffin and scone, although perhaps the reason of her nausea was sitting in front of her-

No. It was just that…

_Cheesecake like that was one of Kieran’s favorites._

“I’ve had a rough week, in case you didn’t notice.” She growled. “I want answers. _Now._ ” 

“I’m glad to see you’ve eaten at least. I’m sure you made a fine Detective. I’m proud of you, Ren,” he said with a sigh, restlessly running a hand through his hair and looking out the window, grey eyes darkening. He took a bite of the cheesecake and licked the raspberry drizzle off of his lips. For a moment the raspberry looked like blood. 

Stalling. She sighed. She was tired. So very, very tired.

“What do you want to know?” He turned to her, eyes full of so much _pain_ , so much _fear._ He tugged off his gloves, Lauren’s eyes settling on the missing stub, taking another sip of the scalding coffee before her golden eyes flashed back to his. 

_Do you think anyone who associates with me has a_ **_heart?_ **

“I…” she sighed. “Nevermind.”

His brows furrowed. “You sure?”

“I’ve heard enough. Seen enough. I just.. let’s walk around.. before… I just need some fresh air.” She tugged at her scarf slightly, standing up and leaving.

Dylan followed, throwing the rest of the cheesecake away, which even she found a little barbaric. _Hypocrite._

Outside, she almost linked arms with him, but then remembered it was _Dylan,_ not _Kieran_ by her side.

Why did that bother her so much?

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

Soon she’d be rid of Kieran for good. Then she could figure everything out. 

Lauren forced down the rest of her coffee, tossing it into the trash can, and as she strutted off in her heeled boots, she tripped on a rock, gracelessly toppling over into the snow. 

“Woah, watch out,” Dylan helped her up, laughing.

“Shut up,” Lauren’s face burned from embarrassment. On the rooftops, a raven watched, fluttering his wings as another figure shifted in the shadows of the alleyways below, the bird taking off, flying over Lauren’s head, and the man hiding in the shadows. 

She looked up briefly at the raven flying by, weirdly feeling self conscious about how she tripped like a clutz in broad daylight, but Dylan tilted her face back to hers. “No injuries that I can see.” 

{Though wise men at their end know dark is right}

She crossed her arms, “I’m fineeeeeee, _doctor.”_ She smirked. 

“You’re so silly,” Dylan teased, grinning as he punched Lauren’s nose with his fingers and wiggled it slightly. Lauren huffed indignantly as Dylan, pushing him away, and he laughed, ducking as she grabbed his cap and hit him with it. “You’re going to tear my _new_ hat!” He whined, laughing as Lauren ducked, grabbing a handful of snow and tossing it at him. 

{Because their words had forked no lightning they}

He blocked it with his arm, snatching his hat back and jumping back as Lauren paced in a small circle, throwing her hands to the sky, “You are 23 years old and still a child, Rosentha-AHH-“ she hissed, recoiling as a snowball crashed against her.

He doubled over, laughing, pointing at her and giving a mocking “HA!”

“Oh _okay_ ,” Lauren bristled, dropping to a knee and forming another snowball, the ice biting into her gloves as Dylan’s eyes widened, raising his hands, “No- don’t-”

{Do not go gentle into that good night.}

Lauren threw the snowball and it hit him square in the chest, knocking him over into the snow.

He snickered as he fell, laughing, silver eyes flashing as the snow tangled in his white curls, moving his arms and legs up and down. 

“Snow angels, seriously?” Lauren giggled, golden eyes ticketing with amusement, flopping down next to him, fiddling with her scarf and watching the snow drift down, having to squint due to the brightness of the sun reflecting off of the ice.

{Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright}

She turned on her side, seeing Dylan smile, a sad expression in his eyes. She took off her glove, reached out towards him, and he took her hand in his. His cold hand shocked her, feeling as if she were touching a ghost, but the silver fire flashing in his eyes and mischievous smirk on his lips led her to think they were just kids again, having fun. 

“Ren, I missed you,” he said, lips curling down into a frown.

“Me too, Dylan,” she sighed, still laying down next to him. 

“I’m sorry.” He said. “But I’m a hypocrite for it.”

“Sorry for what?”

His eyes darkened. “A lot of things. You deserve so much better.”

“I understand.” _Did she?_ “And I have my fair share of selfish sins and hypocrisy.”

“Enough depressing talk,” he said, pushing himself to his feet, holding out a hand to her. She took it, standing up and brushing the snow off of her.

She could swear someone was watching as Dylan pointed to a shop, saying, “Come on, it’s almost Christmas, let’s look around.”

She smiled, linking her arm with his as they 

stepped out of the snow and into the shop. It felt odd, how relieved she was when he let her arm go, opening the door for her.

{Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay}

Bells jingled slightly as the door opened, the smell of birch and pinewood, winter berry and cocoa filling the shop with a variety of holiday aromas, candlelight flickering as they stepped in.

Lost in thought, she admired the small variety of Christmas trees with soft lights illuminating ornaments of all kinds.

She sighed into the warmth of the gift shop, pausing in front of a nutcracker with bright blue eyes and a sword at his hip. She tore her gaze away, frowning at the rat king and the sugar plum fairy beside him. 

She admired the decorations every which way, smiling as she made her way around the store. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, but she didn’t mind much at the moment, humming along to a Christmas song playing in the shop. 

_Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, was it?_

She paused. 

{Rage, rage against the dying of the light.}

“Lauren, look ‘ere.” Dylan huffed, walking over to her.

“Huh?” She turned, seeing a little gift box in his hands. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“Open it. Merry Christmas.” He grinned.

She tore the silver wrapping unceremoniously, hungry for answers as usual, reckless enough to disregard the care put into the delicate wrapping. 

He laughed slightly as she took the necklace out, admiring it. Silver chain links with a daisy pendant in the middle, a gold center matching her eyes. She smiled, undoing the clasp. “It’s very nice, thank you.”

He stepped towards her, his smile dropping into a serious expression, sharp features reminding her of a fox, perhaps. 

“Allow me.” 

Her breath hitched as he took the necklace from her, tugging off her scarf and replacing it with the necklace, wincing as the cold metal bit into her pale skin, the necklace a bit too tight, reminding her too much, too much of-

_I AM a monster and_ **_I have ALWAYS been like this._ **

“Look.” He stepped away, the scarf secured in his hands like a prize.

She turned, looking at a mirror. Despite the dark circles under her eyes, she looked stunning as usual, the necklace painfully pretty.

Her eyes dropped down to the scarf in his hands. Then back up to the mirror. She fluffed up her red curls, nodding.

“Beautiful,” he whispered in awe. 

She nodded absentmindedly, tearing her gaze away from the mirror, turning around, suddenly reminded of the guilt and the pain, of her parents, of Dylan-

Dylan, who was alive before her. Dylan, who smirked and motioned up with his head, but had a faraway look in his eyes. 

The red and white berries against the leaves looked down on her, and her breath caught, eyes flickering as she tilted her head. 

Mistletoe.

Lost in another memory, years ago, once again, Lauren found herself drowning in another dream. Even though the scars of her past were forever fresh in her mind, the happy memories hurt the most in moments like these suspended in time.

{Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight}

[[……. “Look Dylan, it’s a mistletoe! It’s tradition to kiss under it,” Mr. Rosenthal said, smiling at Lauren. She was busy frantically unwrapping a present under the Christmas tree, the golden bow atop red wrapping gleaming up at her.

“Mistletoe grows parasitically on trees, Dad, and plus, _Ren_ is my friend. We’re _friends.”_ Dylan stuck his tongue out.

Lauren laughed, blushing slightly as she admired the berries.

She turned, seeing Dylan staring at her, captured in her gaze. Dylan shook his head and looked away. 

Lauren’s mother laughed, smiling at her father. “Alexander, don’t you remember when Dakan pranked us by inviting us to the palace and hanging up mistletoes in the doorway?”

“I do, Rachel,” he laughed, dramatically mimicking, Dakan as he said: “If you don’t kiss under the mistletoe I’m afraid that’ll be an act of treason!”

Dakan choked on his mug of hot cocoa, coughing and doubling over in a fit of laughter, grabbing onto the armrest. Lauren laughed along, grinning widely at them. 

“No place like home,” Tristan said with a smile, adjusting his glasses, and Dakan, coughing into his fist and, sitting back in the red armchair said, “I agree. This is much better than that stuffy old palace.” He gave a mischievous smile that the adults all laughed at.

“Is Will coming?” Lauren inquired, tilting her head as she shook the gift box. “Dylan’s never met him!”

Dakan’s emerald eyes flashed as he leaned forward, “Open your present, Ren.”

“A shame Stefan’s son couldn’t make it. He said it was piano lessons but I think he was just being stubborn,” Tristan growled.

“He’s been bitter ever since you took over as Chief of Police, Tristan,” her mother said, sharing a look with her husband.

“Mm,” Tristan nodded. “Let’s not worry about that right now. You figured out how to open it, or do I need to get you scissors, Ren?”

“I got it!” She called. She opened the box, taking out two brand new cameras. “Wow!!!” Her eyes lit up. 

“I must admit, that _is_ really cool,” Dylan tipped his cap towards her, the patch in it where she ripped it a couple days ago white against the cap’s umber color. 

“Look Dylan, one’s for you, too,” Rachel said, smiling. “One for you and Ren.”

Dylan gasped. “For _me_?!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to-” Mr. Rosenthal started, eyes widening. 

“It’s a gift from all of us,” Alexander added.

Her driver, Abel Sandman, was lurking in the shadows, but offered a warm smile and stood a bit straighter when her widened eyes drifted to him, and around the others in the room.

“Thank you so much!” She ran over to her parents, hugging them. Her mother kissed her on the cheek and her father patted her forehead. 

Dylan stared at the gift in shock, tears coming to his eyes. “This is.. the kindest gift I- I’ve…” he sniffed. “Thank you,” he whispered, showing his father the camera.

Lauren’s eyes flashed, looking at Dylan in a new light. Sometimes, she forgot just how privileged she was.

“Her eyes really are pensive, aren’t they?” Dakan murmured, and her mother nodded. 

“Takes after you,” her father smiled, elbowing her. 

“No you,” she elbowed him back. “She has your hair.”

“No _you._ She has your-”

His father looked the camera over as Lauren’s parents playfully bickered, smiling at Dylan. “Oh no, now they’re spoiling you,” he winked at Tristan, “Go thank them, go on.” 

Dylan laughed, standing up and saying, “Thank you so mu-”

Lauren turned around and hugged Dylan, his eyes widening. He hugged her back, sniffling and smiling. 

“Why of course, you’re not just good for gardening, you know, you’re our friends, and what’s Christmas about but giving?” Tristan said kindly. 

Dakan’s eyes wavered, muttering “Mmm, if Lizzy was here she’d probably say something about taking everything.”

“And that’s why _she_ wasn’t invited,” Tristan quipped.

Dakan laughed, eyes softening.

Lauren’s parents linked their arms together, her mother leaning her head on her father’s shoulder. 

Dylan and Lauren sat down, both examining their cameras and giggling when they snapped silly pictures of each other. 

In those days… everything seemed right….]]

~~~

Her eyes widened in shock as she shook herself from the memory. There was a certain kind of jarring difference from past to present shaking her back to reality, her eyes flashing down at Dylan, up at the mistletoe, and then back at Dylan again, his hair white as snow as he stepped closer to her, grinning slightly, silver eyes flashing hungrily.

She hissed out a breath as he roughly grabbed onto her wounded shoulder, eyes wavering as he closed the distance, his other hand tangling in her hair, dipping her slightly and pulling her in for a kiss that would no doubt be as controlling as the rest-

_Touch starved._

She shouldn’t- 

Her hands stopped him, palms pressed flat against his chest, hands fisting in his shirt and pushing him back abruptly. She averted her gaze, sputtering, “I-”

Her gaze met that of an aquamarine abyss. 

He may have hesitated.

But she wouldn’t make the same mistake.

**Kieran**

Christmas carols played in the shop, the music drifting around pleasantly as people looked around at all the trinkets and small treasures, a gift, a decoration, who knows. This shop was wonderful, but all Kieran could feel was the chill of the winter land as he stepped in the footsteps of the specter following the wild flame that was Lauren Sinclair. 

Leaning against the wall, Kieran hid in the shadows, eating a croissant from the cafe’s bakery, even as his stomach turned while watching Dylan and Lauren. He had a classic cheesecake slice in the cafe earlier but it tasted like ash in his mouth. Plus his _favorite_ type of cheesecake was _ALL SOLD OUT,_ thanks to Dylan Rosenthal talking the _last_ slice, _knowing_ it was his favorite. He aggressively ripped off a bite of the croissant with his teeth, fighting back a growl of frustration. _My favorite cheesecake…and he just threw the rest away._ The sheer audacity-

His thoughts trailed off as he looked around the store, sneaking glances at Lauren and Dylan. 

“Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” played as he watched them, dodging between the shelves and hiding in every spot he could. When the store owner spotted him, he gave a friendly wave and pretended to intensely study the ornaments shaped into reindeer and snowmen and whatnot. 

Lauren’s eyes flashed the same gold as the bells decorating the store, and her hair was the color of the ribbons and poinsettias around the store. He wished he could be by her side, if only to see her smile. He didn’t know how Dylan could so recklessly ruin everything that made her, _her_ in hopes of possessing her, controlling her. 

He, on the other hand, would much rather sit on the sidelines if only he could get a glimpse of the candlelight in her eyes. 

But not this. Not this. He would rather run Dylan through with a sword and hear Lauren hate him forever for it than to see her smile at him while he held a scalpel of deceit and manipulation behind his back. 

He had been following them for a bit, and Dylan didn’t seem to mind as long as he spectated only, making a mockery of it and smirking at him as if they were both in on a little secret. He downed the rest of his coffee and winced as it burned his throat on the way down. 

“Funny seeing you here.” 

He whirled around, but it was Belladonna Davenport, sauntering into the store.

“Belladonna,” he dipped his head.

“Who are you following, might I wonder,” she shifted closer, stole the croissant from him, and took a bite. “This is actually good,” she said in pleasant surprise, finishing the rest of his croissant while he looked on in horror. 

“How dare you,” he said indignantly, but he knew he probably wouldn’t have finished it anyways. 

“Oh you know me. I always dare. Allow me to take a chance, a gamble, an _assumption_ that you’re not here for our favorite Doctor, but you’re rather here for his company.”

**“I don’t know what you’re talking about** ,” he growled, eyes settling on Lauren, who was looking at a nutcracker with a sword at its hip.

“Uh huh,” Belladonna smirked. “How’s your head?”

“Throbbing still, thanks to you,” he growled, cringing as he saw Dylan remove the scarf she was wearing, _the_ scarf, and put a silver chain around her neck instead, hands possessive, brushing her moon kissed skin, the necklace tight enough to be considered a choker, a white daisy pendant with a gold center resting at her collar. 

“Why are you working with that sad excuse of a sardine anyways?” He seethed. 

“Sardine! Hahahaha!” She laughed, twirling a lock of pink hair around a finger, her earrings glittering and amber eyes flashing. “You’re so funny. I was only doing Hemlock a favor for a favor, you see, but if you want to eliminate him feel free, I have no use for him anymore, and I already have another who can provide me the golden viper venom.” 

“Who?”

She smirked. “Apollo has all kinds of connections.”

The circus royale’s blindfolded pianist. 

“ _Him?”_

“There’s much more to him than it seems,” she purred.

“It seems the hawk has caught the viper, then.”

“Don’t be so sure I haven’t struck him myself.”

“Your fangs and tongue are as sharp as ever, Davenport.” He sighed, turning his gaze back to Dylan and Lauren, who both looked up, and then back at each other, having noticed the mistletoe hanging above them. 

{And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way}

Belladonna frowned, putting a hand on Kieran’s shoulder and whispering in his ear, “He’s unhinged you know.” He met her amber gaze. 

“Hemlock, he’s unhinged,” Bella repeated.

“I noticed. You think I’m not _aware?”_ Kieran hissed. 

“Oh Kieran,” she sighed, as his eyes flashed angrily towards Dylan and Lauren, who looked at each other under the mistletoe as if- as if-

“Guard that heart of yours,” Belladonna warned, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. “Before Sinclair puts a bullet through it.”

“I’m not so sure she hasn’t already.”

“So sentimental, Kieran. I really do wish you the best of luck, but all my favors are spent. I’ll be watching,” her heels went _ta-ta_ on the floor as she walked off, Kieran’s eyes blazing with aquamarine fire as Dylan grabbed Lauren’s shoulder, other hand tangled in her hair, pulling her in for a possessive kiss-

She hissed out, but her eyes lit with an unreadable expression.

He couldn’t watch this again, he couldn’t bear it-

Lauren suddenly pushed Dylan away before her lips could meet his, exhaling sharply, eyes wavering as she said, “I-“

Her eyes met his.

Again.

Dylan laughed, a crazed laugh as he took out a scalpel.

His tell tale heart pounded like the beat of a war drum as they turned, eyes fixated on him. He knew Belladonna was gone by now, but he could hear her words taunting him as he stepped back, blue eyes widening _unhinged… guard that heart of yours_.

It was far too late for that.

Kieran flipped out a switchblade, regretting leaving his katana at home, _again._

To be fair, walking around in a winter coat with a sword wasn’t the best when one was trying to be inconspicuous. 

Lauren took out her pistol. “Kieran,” she snarled, eyes alight with a murderous fire.

Dylan and Lauren were on a hunt.

And he was the prey. 

But the phantom scythe had trained him to be a predator, too.

He would not go down this easily. 

{Do not go gentle into that good night.}

~~~

**Lauren**

Blind rage overtook her as she hurtled forward, shoving everything out of the way, the metal of her daisy necklace so cold it burned against her neck, her scarf discarded to the wind as she kicked the door open, the store owner hiding behind the counter as she raced outside, Dylan at her heels, Kieran’s figure a blur as he sprinted off.

She chased him down once.

And she could do it again.

_Damn, he’s fast,_ she was reminded of again, weaving between alleyways, trying not to slip in the snow, watching as Kieran hoisted himself on top of a box, jumped onto another, ducking as Dylan threw a scalpel that embedded itself in the wall above his head. Kieran ripped the blade out and tossed it back towards him before jumping up, grabbing onto a handhold in the wall, kicking one of the boxes down. “Get down!” Lauren tackled Dylan to the ground, and the blade whizzed by them, the wooden box tumbling off the one underneath and crashing inches beside her. She looked up and Kieran was already on the roof, already sprinting off.

“Are you ok?” She asked, suddenly reminded of the car that almost ran them over as children, her sprained ankle, the fire- 

_Kieran bandaging her ankle in his apartment. His concentration as he stitched her arm._

They got up, and he grabbed his scalpel again, scowling and nodding. She shook her head, chasing the memories away.

**She needed to keep going.**

Kieran had disappeared from sight, but she could find him, she always could. She knew these streets like the back of her hand. As she ducked into an alleyway, Dylan surprisingly keeping up with her, a shadow passed overhead and Lauren skidded to a stop. 

She watched, almost in awe as Kieran gracefully jumped over the rooftop above them and landed onto another, rolling and getting to his feet without a beat. “Ren, here!-” Dylan knelt before her, holding out his hands, and she stepped onto them, Dylan giving her a boost. She hoisted herself up the roof, holding out a hand and helping Dylan up too, his feet scrabbling at the blood-red brick walls, silver eyes flashing. He had always been afraid of heights. So _slow._ She hissed out a breath of frustration between her teeth as they both stood, taking off, heeled boots clacking against the rooftop as she chased after Kieran. Kieran paused as Dylan fumbled for his footing, throwing Lauren a desperate look over his shoulder, cyan eyes flickering like firelight in a snowstorm. 

The wind whipped her hair back, the silver chain necklace choking her slightly, and she blinked away her tears of frustration as she stared at him, suspended in space, ignoring the suffering clearly painted across his face...

They needed to _hurry up._ “Come on!” She yelled, turning to glare at Dylan. 

Kieran took off, and Lauren spun on her heel, racing after him, Dylan’s laughs following his every step. “ _Run_ all you want Kieran, you can’t escape from the- face us, _coward!”_

Kieran stopped again, rolling his eyes and hissing in frustration as, whirled around, eyes blazing with blue flame. “Lauren! I just want to talk-” 

Taking out her pistol, she flipped off the safety. 

“Lauren,” he warned, backing up. 

Seeing the murderous look in her eyes, his own widened in horror.

She aimed. Fired. 

Lauren’s gunshot ricocheted off of the roof as Kieran jumped out of the way, grabbing onto a windowsill and kicking the window, the glass shattering as he slipped inside the room.

She holstered the pistol, backing up a few steps before taking off in a sprint, free falling for a second before grabbing onto the windowsill and hoisting herself up, clambering inside.

A curtain smacked her in the face and she angrily pushed it to the side, blowing some hair out of her face, fixing her ponytail and hissing in annoyance when the wind made the curtains blow so that they obscured her vision. 

The house was empty, thankfully, but-

Where did he-

Kieran tackled into her, pinning her to the ground, holding the switchblade to her throat and seizing her wrist as she aimed the pistol at him, his pupils dilating. “Lauren, _please,_ just _listen_ to me for a- _”_

_BANG._

The bullet embedded itself in the ceiling, the impact knocking a lamp over that crashed to the ground.

“-second,” he whispered, shuddering, eyes widening, pupils constricting. She bared her teeth, taking advantage of the split second he was stunned for to kick him off, Kieran rolling and getting to his feet, as she stood and spun, delivering a roundhouse kick that connected with his chest, sending him skidding back against the wall, his throat bobbing as he spat out blood, rasping, “Wait-”

“ _No_.”

_BANG._

He ducked as she shot the picture hiding behind where his head was an instant before, flinging his knife forward. It stabbed into the wall behind her and he lunged-

But instead of whirling to face it, she stood her ground, spinning so that she was around him, kicking the back of his knee and grabbing onto him, the two of them tumbling to the ground as she pinned him down.

“I’m not falling for that maneuver again,” she hissed, golden eyes flashing.

His hand seized her wrist, twisting the gun out of her grip, the pistol clattering to the ground before she could pull the trigger again, both of them baring their teeth like wolves snapping at each other’s throats. He forced her off, scrambling to his feet, Lauren unleashing a flurry of relentless blows that he blocked and countered with moves of his own. The two of them grappled for purchase when they got too close, Lauren throwing a punch that Kieran caught, the two of them struggling, Kieran overpowering her for a moment enough for her to stumble back a few steps just for Lauren to turn the tables and uses his momentum to slam him against the wall. 

Sweat trickled down their faces, panting from exertion. The dim lighting of the house made it hard to see him, but he whispered, “Do you remember this place?”

She looked around. Her eyes widened.

“This is the house of the murder-”

“The day you chased me down and we met. For the first time.”

“Why did you hesitate,” she whispered.

“I-“

Footsteps up the stairs followed by an exasperated “finally” as Dylan stumbled in, pausing to catch his breath.

“Did you- run up the stairs-” Kieran breathed, and then let his head fall back against the wall, laughing, locks of his hair loosened from his hair tie from the skirmish falling in his face. Lauren rolled her eyes, turning to look at him. _Really, Dylan? You’re embarrassing me in front of the Purple Hyacinth._

“Shut...up…” Dylan breathed, grabbing onto his knees as he doubled over. 

Kieran used the opportunity to hook an ankle around hers, Lauren trying to ignore the rush of heat that followed from his leg around hers, gasping slightly as he wrenched them around and shoved her against the wall, somewhat gently, but firm enough to keep her in place. She noticed his lip was split and his eyebrow was notched, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t think with his electric blue eyes intensifying as he paused to catch his breath. He was _exhausted_ , as she was, his hands were shaking, and she could tell he was… _trembling_ , his breathing ragged as he pressed against her against the wall, trying not to touch her, trying not to remind her of-

“I’m sorry, I know you’re upset, I just need to speak with you, he’s-”

Her eyes left his, seeing Dylan stalking forward, scalpel in hand, silver eyes flashing, a vicious expression on his visage, preparing to strike. 

Kieran paused, intense gaze leaving Lauren’s, looking down and to the side. His lips pulled up in a snarl, aquamarine eyes flashing dangerously.

He stepped to the side as Dylan stabbed out with the blade, grabbing his wrist and wrenching him forward, sending him stumbling off balance as he released his wrist, kicking back so his foot connected with the back of Dylan’s knee, sending him to his knees. Kieran spun on his feet, looking left and right for Lauren, who had already lunged for her pistol on the ground.

Dylan staggered to his feet and slashed out with his scalpel as Lauren retrieved her gun.

Kieran dodged to the side, looking between the two of them and shaking his head bitterly before fixing his hair tie, retreating out through the window. 

“Nooooo,” Dylan whined.

“Come on.” Lauren ran out, grabbing onto the windowsill and scaling down the side of the wall.

Dylan followed, shuddering slightly inv fear as he stumbled after her. “I do _not_ like heights I do not-”

“Shut up and save your breath,” Lauren snapped, picking up her pace, but Kieran was _too far, too far-_

She could see his white ribbon against his dark hair, but, so focused on keeping up with him, she didn’t notice where they were until she skidded to a stop, looking up at the newly renovated Allendale Train Station.

Dylan stopped beside her, looking at her.

_The point of no return._

Kieran slipped inside, crossing the threshold. 

She stepped forward. Stepped forward once more. Broke into a run, tried to ignore the feeling that she was making a horrible, _horrible_ mistake. 

“APD! Evacuate the train station!” Lauren screamed, running in. 

Some people, bustling about the train station on their business, turned to look at her, blinking. 

“Huh…?”

“Who’s that?”

“What did she say?”

“ ...Where’s the rest of your patrol unit?” A man said. Murmuring broke out amongst the crowd.

Kieran’s words from a couple days echoed in her head. _Oh they’ll_ **_listen_ ** _to you! Just like they did last time?_

Kieran himself, blending in perfectly amongst the crowd, made eye contact with Lauren. An unreadable expression flashed in his eyes. He motioned to his head, where Dylan was weaving his way through the crowd like a ghost, whispering “The Purple Hyacinth is here! I saw the Purple Hyacinth.”

_I dare you._

“The Purple Hyacinth is here!” A woman yelled.

“ **It’s true! I saw him!”** A man beside her screamed.

Lady A, _what was she always doing here_ , dramatically hugged her Butler, screaming in horror, “WHERE?! WHERE! I WON'T LET THE PURPLE HYACINTH HURT MY DEAR MR. BUTLER!!” 

“I’ll protect you with my brussel sprouts!-”

Kieran facepalmed, groaning slightly. “Why me,” he mouthed. Even Dylan blinked in amused astonishment. 

“I-” Lauren stared blankly.

_What the hell-_

“How do we even know what the Hyacinth looks like-” someone tried to say, but Belladonna Davenport of all people emerged from the crowd, hands and front of her outfit covered in blood. “ **He killed my lover in front of me and then raced off the train! I came here to warn you before-before he kills anyone else- he’s a** **_monster!”_ **She let out a shrill scream, holding up the purple hyacinth flower covered in blood, feigned horror flashing in her eyes, and the crowd was screaming, shoving, clawing for a way out, running for the doors. 

Lauren blinked in confusion, especially at the blatant lies, even that of him being a monster. Kieran let out an exasperated sigh. Dylan fought back a snicker as Belladonna broke into a fit of sobs and ran off. 

“ **The Purple Hyacinth is here to kill us all!”** Dylan yelled, eyes flashing. Lauren flinched at the lie, seeing Kieran’s eyes dim. 

The crowd scattered, pandemonium breaking out as Dylan and Lauren split up, trying to corner Kieran. 

The hurried steps and harrowing screams receded from earshot as Lauren skidded to a stop, heart pounding as she spotted Kieran beside the train tracks, his eyes wavering as he looked up at a clock. She breathed heavily, Dylan stopping beside her. His eyes flashed dangerously as he stalked forward, pausing and looking back at her. “There’s nowhere to run, Kieran,” Dylan growled.

“It seems you’re _just_ on time,” Kieran said dully, all three of them turning to see the clock chime 10:45. “Hemlock, stay the hell away from her, you hear me?” he hissed, seething with rage as he turned around, hands curled into fists at his sides. He pushed his hair back, glaring angrily at Dylan, who sneered at him. 

“Why did you write that letter?!” Lauren screamed, shouldering past Dylan as she staggered forward, footsteps echoing loudly in the now empty platform, taking out her gun. “How _dare_ you-”

**“I didn’t write it-** ” Kieran sputtered, eyes flashing with … frustration… or was it _fear_? 

“Liar!!!” She loaded her gun, eyes blazing with golden fire.

“I mean I did _write it_ but I didn’t I- I was FORCED to write it-“ he snapped, raising his hands as Lauren advanced.

“Oh so Kieran White didn’t write it but _the Purple Hyacinth did?_ YOU DISGUST ME!”

“Lauren, listen to me, _please-“_ his brows furrowed.

_“_ He’s delusional, put him out of his misery already,” Dylan snarled, pacing back and forth as he twirled his scalpel in his hands, trying to hide his glee as Kieran shot him a death glare, lunging at him, hands curling into fists, “YOU!-”

“HEY! Eyes on me, not _him,_ this is about _you_ and what _YOU wrote, and what you DID,_ you _murderous monster_ ,” Lauren let out a guttural growl stepping in front of Dylan protectively.

“Isn’t that label getting a bit old, _Lauren,”_ Kieran spat, “If only you’d LISTEN to me you’d see HE’S the problem HE’S the one manipulating you!-“ he pointed at Dylan, chest heaving as Lauren blocked him, saying “No Kieran, you listen to ME!”

“Oh come on, _officer._ Are you so blind you can’t even see the LIE that is standing RIGHT NEXT TO YOU?! He’s _USING YOU,_ he’s MANIPULATING YOU. I trained with him for years in the Scythe, your _pal_ just wants ME dead so he can _possess_ you, so he can _control you,”_ he sputtered, hands grabbing onto his hair in frustration, blue eyes wide and wild. 

“At least he hasn’t HURT me, unlike YOU!” Lauren snapped, fighting back a sob as tears blurred her eyes, angrily wiping them away.

“Oh, is that so?” Kieran spat bitterly, eyes flashing down the bruises decorating her neck and lips and back up to hers. 

“As if you haven’t done so much more than _hurt_ people. You kill them and leave flowers as if it’ll bring you forgiveness and redemption through your pitiful apologies,” Dylan growled, “You cut off my finger and cauterized it without a shred of hesitation, yet you hesitated to kill Lauren in the alleyway in order for her to fulfil her purpose in a deal _you_ organized, _all for your own benefit.”_

“You’re one to talk!” Kieran roared. “Harvey is dead because of HIS golden viper venom that he gave to Belladonna, and countless more deaths are attributed to his poisons, despite the lack of blood on his hands. At least, on _his_ hands.”

“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have a means to apologize _anyways, I_ gave you your Hyacinths and _I_ gave you your _name, KIERAN.”_ Dylan snarled, stepping forward, but Lauren held out an arm, holding him back. 

“If it wasn’t for me you would’ve died in that fire, ROSENTHAL-”

“If it wasn’t for YOU, Ren would’ve found me and I would’ve never been dragged into the phantom scythe to begin with! This is _your_ fault, Kieran!-” Dylan hissed, fighting back tears of his own. “It’s time you pay for your sins.”

“What??” Lauren looked between them, eyes wide.

“Oh that’s right, _darling,”_ Kieran stepped towards her, a hand held out as if afraid to spook her, “He-” 

She cut him off.

“How could you, Kieran?! No matter how many times I try to see the humanity in you, you’re nothing but a disappointment, but a _weapon.”_

_“_ And HE’S nothing but a SPIDER who’s ensnared you in his web! You are a blind, foolish hypocrite who can’t see what’s RIGHT in front of her. You’ve been obsessing over him for YEARS-” he seethed.

“Oh Kieran, you really should shut up. The only fool here is you,” Dylan snarled, interjecting. 

“I should’ve NEVER made that deal with you, but now it’s time to finish what I started-” Lauren growled.

“Oh please, Lauren, how can you not see it, for God’s sake; LOOK AT HIM! He’s not the same Dylan you know!-”

He wasn’t lying, and when Lauren looked at Dylan with his crazed silver eyes and maniacal sneer, she wondered if perhaps she had been wrong after all- 

**No.**

“I swear to god if you... say... one... more ...word…” she snarled, stepping closer as Kieran stepped back, caught in a tango once again, a dance with death, “I’ll shoot you right now!”. She was tempted to knee him between the ribs once more for good measure. She wanted to see the light leave his eyes. She wanted to see the spark of a murderer extinguished, she wanted to take the life of someone who had killed so many, who had brought her so much pain.

“ _Don't do this Lauren,_ ” Kieran rasped, throat raw from screaming, and Lauren finally got a look at the injuries decorating _his_ figure as well, a split lip, a broken nose that had been reset perhaps, eyes flickering with exhaustion and with frustrated fury. 

“SHUT UP! SHUT _UP_!!-” she advanced closer to him, and Kieran raised his hands as she raised the gun over her head, pointing it to the ceiling, her scream echoing off of the train station walls.

“Lauren,” his voice broke. “Please.” 

“I'M WARNING YOU!-” she pointed the gun at him. “GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON I SHOULDN’T SHOOT YOU-“

“He sent Belladonna after you-”

“Ahahahaha, _Belladonna_ works for no one but _herself_ ,” Dylan laughed.

“KAHAHAHA, you have her well and truly fooled, don’t you, you little sh*t. You think you’re a shark but you’re pathetic as a sardine, but for some reason Lauren thinks I’m the wolf here,” Kieran pushed his hair back. “He forced _me_ to write the note, dammit, he just thought his chains could keep me from-”

“IS THIS A JOKE TO YOU?!” Lauren snarled not wanting to hear it.

“Wolf?! You’re more like a pathetic _puppy,”_ she growled. 

“He’s been STALKING you like some psychopath-” Kieran yelled. 

Lauren blinked away her confusion, contorting it into a cruel variant of chaotic self control that was more akin to a calamity being restrained, baring her teeth. It wasn’t a lie, but perhaps a warped truth. It was an _excuse,_ and it didn’t cut it. 

“Oh and you’re _not_ as damaged as me, if not more?” Dylan interjected with a sneer. “I was keeping an eye on you, dear Lauren-”

She breathed through her teeth, feeling like a fox foaming at the mouth, wanting to burn, burn it all, if only it could quell the rage boiling in her.

“He drugged your water, he has a whole damn diary, a whole damn room filled with _perverted_ pictures of you-”

“It was a sedative to help her sleep,” Dylan hissed, but avoided her glare. “I was a spy for the phantom scythe, I take pictures of anyone of interest for blackmail-and why were _you_ snooping through MY things, anyways?!” 

“Oh for the love of- AAAAAARHHH!!” Lauren screamed, trying to ignore how nothing made sense, pacing in a circle and taking a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate, turning her agonizing internal strife into fuel, into adrenaline. Kieran’s mouth snapped shut, and even Dylan flinched, despite the smirk that played on his lips when she turned to face Kieran again.

“Ahaha. Keh-hah-ahaha.. HAHAHAHA.” Lauren laughed like a madwoman, pinching the bridge of her nose as she pointed the pistol at Kieran, who swallowed hard, hands still raised. Silence settled over the scene as her heeled boots clacked on the floor, Kieran flinching as if each word that followed was a stab to his heart:

“All I’ve heard is excuses and excuses that are just pinning blame on Dylan, but you have yet to justify any of your OWN horrific actions, because you can’t, can you? You _agree_ you’re a monster- you said so on the day you almost choked me to death. So let me repeat myself ONE. MORE. DAMN. TIME. 

Give me ONE excuse why I shouldn’t shoot you in the face and end both our sufferings!

Besides, you said it yourself, arresting you would accomplish nothing, you’d only escape, _Kieran.”_

His eyes dimmed.

“My, my, officer, you learn so quickly. A shame you’ve become a puppet too, but not to the Phantom Scythe, to your own obsession with a boy you thought is dead but has rather turned into something much worse. 

You’re ensnared by a sad excuse of a specter, and he’s enslaved to his darkest desires. I’m enslaved to the leader and _yes_ , I made a deal with you in hopes of freeing myself and everyone oppressed by him, but _you_ only want to rid yourself of guilt in hope it’ll bring _you_ peace, yet you do so by chasing an obsession who now has _complete_ control over you _.”_ Lauren didn’t dare to say a word, especially as everything he said wasn’t a lie, her pistol shaking as Kieran continued, his eyes flickering dangerously with something like bitter sympathy, or perhaps regret, or something else, or all of those and a thousand more emotions, deadlocked in an electric blue aquamarine abyss. 

“It’s tragic, _truly_ ,” he continued, eyes darkening, “Chains bind us all for very different reasons, but you _chose_ your _own_ chains. _It just goes around, and around, and around._ We truly are too similar for our own good, aren’t we.”

Dylan laughed, his laughs echoing off of the walls, walking up to Lauren and tilting her chin towards his, “Are you seriously going to listen to this bullsh*t? Put him out of his misery. Show him he’s _nothing_.” 

“I’ve tried so hard to see the humanity in the world… but here… no…

There’s no humanity here.” Kieran hissed. 

“Let’s finish this,” Lauren snapped, forcing back the bitter tears that dared to suffocate her. 

{Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight}

Kieran’s eyes latched onto Lauren’s, desperation crowding his features. Did he expect her to believe him? Pathetic. 

He faltered, seeing the relentless fire burning in the depths of Lauren’s gaze of ichor, taking in a shuddering breath, whispering softly, “Oh."

Why was he so surprised? 

Didn’t he know it would always end this way? 

Her hands were shaking on the pistol as she stepped closer to Kieran, rage surging through her blood. 

"Kill him! ** **_He’s a monster and he always will be!_ **"** Dylan yelled, eyes turning back to hers, a crazed silver flame dancing in their depths, his hands curled into fists.

A lie.

Lauren’s hands steadied. 

Kieran looked at her, a solemn look crossing his features, his hands raised, palms displayed, eyes wavering, a starlit sapphire sea. His hands lowered and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, bracing himself. He wasn’t preparing himself to fight back. He was accepting his fate. Swift execution at her hand. Where the catalyst for her story began. 

Kieran’s eyes opened again, giving her a nod and a weak smile. " **It’s ok** ," he whispered. A lie. "You can kill me." A truth. 

_*Always headshots with you_.*

But not today, today Lauren aimed at his heart. 

His tell-tale heart. 

Kieran frowned, and then glared at Dylan for one last fraction of a second, hatred burning behind his gaze, before shifting back to Lauren, looking so incredibly sad and in so much _pain_. 

She hesitated.

She knew Dylan was watching, was pacing, growling, “Kill him!"

She glanced to the side, studying him for a second. He stored his scalpel, taking off his hat and running his hands restlessly through his hair before putting his cap back on, baring his teeth into a snarl, his eyes fixated on Kieran with an expression reflective of something like giddiness or glee. Or _both_. 

She looked between them, heart racing. 

What had happened to the boy she had known so well? What had happened to the assassin who would rather let her burn than do them both in? 

**Who was the monster and who was the man?**

In her head, bells seemed to toll, _Death_ , the card Hecate pulled had said. _Change._

_He is more similar than you think._

_Betrayal._

What did any of this mean?

Dylan looked at her and gave a bloodthirsty smile before his eyes flashed back to The Purple Hyacinth. 

A crossroads. An impossible choice.

She took a shuddering breath, she released a strangled sob, how could she _chose_ -

“KILL HIM!” Dylan screamed.

She saw her distorted reflection in the steel of the gun, she looked at Kieran, she looked at Dylan, but no matter how hard she looked, she was blind, blind as ever- 

Torn in two. Tears streaked down her face.

“Lauren I-,” Kieran started. “No matter what I-... I…”

Her gaze snapped back to his. 

_And so it begins._

{Blind eyes could blaze like meteors}

_And so it ends._

She faced Kieran, “What is it?” She whispered.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Kieran White said, his split lip quivering as he spoke, and he bowed his head, biting his lip, never breaking eye contact with her. 

But she felt as if that wasn’t exactly what he had wanted to say.

_Nevermore._

An unspoken understanding passed through La Lune, something the blinding light of the Sun made of fool’s gold could never understand.

Kieran closed his eyes in resignation, a tear slipping down his face. 

The point of no return. 

How could she have been so blind?

_Over and over and over again._

The blindest of all. Past and present. 

_If only she had known… everything would’ve been different._

{Rage, rage against the dying of the light.}

She closed her eyes, tears falling down her face.

Rage

Rage

Against the dying of the light-

* **BANG** * 

  
  
  


_Time slowed and sped up all the same._

  
  
  
  


Kieran dropped to his knees, clutching at his heart and shuddering. 

  
  
  


Dylan recoiled, let out a stunned, gurgling gasp.

  
  


Lauren’s ears began to ring.

  
  


She had taken the road less taken, guided by her tell tale heart, and it made all the difference as she snapped out of her snare of summer, stepped into the harshest of winters, the darkest of moonlight nights and most turbulent of starlit seas, as she opened her eyes-

-seeing Dylan stagger back, the world slowing and speeding up all the same as the bullet slammed into his chest, right through the white rose boutonnière, staining its petals with the blood that bloomed from his sternum, staining his white shirt. She didn’t realize she was aiming to kill, she only remembered the distinct feeling of turning on her heel and firing the gun on Dylan instead.

“Why?” He groaned, coughing up blood, staggering back, near the edge of the train tracks, the train screaming closer. Lauren rushing after him, eyes wide. “Dylan!” She screamed as he tripped backwards and toppled over, falling, falling. His hand reached out for hers, looking like the clumsy, kind, thoughtful boy she knew for just a moment, pale eyes wide and afraid, whispering “ _Ren-_ ”

“LAUREN, LOOK OUT!” A third voice joined the fray as she reached out for Dylan, an arm wrapping around her waist, his hand slipping from her grasp, wrenching her back as the train roared by, only remembering Dylan was there one second, gone the next, blood from the gunshot staining Lauren’s face, staining the daisy pendant on her neck, screaming and thrashing as Kieran dragged her back away from the train screaming by on its tracks, never deviating from its travel to its destination, its destiny. 

_Selfish hypocrite._

“NO! DYLAN-“ she screamed, voice drowned out by the train, tears falling down her face, collapsing to her knees, turning, arms wrapping around Kieran as she broke down into a fit of sobs, as the world faded in and out of focus. _I know you never meant to kill me._

Yet she alone had shot him … and she alone had sealed his fate.

.....

~~Hemlock~~ **Dylan**

Forever I fight, I struggle for another breath, will my heart to beat onwards, I reach out- trying to survive, an instinctual intensity drowning out my dreams in ravaging, ruthless reality surfing through me like pure adrenaline as I look for the light through my starry vision... yet when I regain my sight... the bright golden glow in your eyes, the stunning, shocking throbbing in my heart seemed to numb into a dull ache... as I stagger back onto these tracks, steel shrapnel shredding my senses, the train screeching closer, confusion wars with solemn acceptance, I understand, I feel as if I am once again human, and I feel at peace for a moment... but it quickly festers to bitter resignation as my heart beats faster, raging, resisting, thrashing against the dying of the light, for the corrupted show their truest desires and colors upon their imminent final judgment, perhaps I will be forgiven by whatever justice awaits, perhaps I will make amends for being the catalyst for such a catastrophe, but no-

No, no, I’m _not_ ready to go- betrayal, betrayal, betrayal in my bones, tears falling down my silver eyes, cap falling on the tracks, form splayed out, almost unable to lift my trembling hand, missing finger mocking me as Kieran drags * _her_ * back- back- away from me, no, don’t go-

Fine, the wheel of fortune sometimes favors those with the hearts of gold, but I had been told I was at most destined to be a ghost, who am I kidding, how was I to fulfill a life already framed for me-

Excuses, excuses, Kieran gave me a second chance at living, yet I decided to spend it in resentment and rage, yet even now, here I simmer and seethe all the same-

I bare my teeth into a savage snarl, survival twisting me into a specter, sore from sentimentality. At least I know if I’ll burn, I’ll haunt your every step. _Remember me, don’t you dare forget me yet...._

As the pain becomes unbearable, and I brace myself for the impact of the inferno I created, I rasp, “I’ll see you on the other side, Ren.” 

And then I take one last, desperate gasp-

Until the inevitable is suddenly here-

And suddenly, suspended in that split second, I’m not so scared anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I wonder if perhaps I have been nothing but a hypocrite. 

No, I’m not scared anymore, life flashing before me, displaying in vivid brilliance, not my mistakes, but the happy moments, my final frontier of feelings following-

No, I’m not scared of death anymore, instead, I realize the severity of my selfish actions, wish I could have a second chance and repent, * _live_ * instead of lingering in longing and lust, instead of trying to control everything, learning to compromise and love and appreciate the intricate artistry of the world instead. I should’ve known that my greatest enemy was myself, for I chose my own path, and I _chose_ to create chaos when I was broken, instead of learning to heal back stronger from every fracture, to rise above the challenges the world threw at me, instead of turning into a shadow of who I once was- living my life as an invisible man, a shadow of a flame- burning every wildflower who graced my path, poisoning and intoxicating _everything_ , _everyone-_

Hadn’t I wanted to _heal_ people? Hadn’t I wanted to be a doctor? Where did I go wrong? And _why?_

_I should’ve stayed true to myself._ I thought part of me had died when the Allendale tragedy struck and I was torn from all those I held dear, when my finger was severed from my hand, but no… I could’ve still… found a way… to fight… to look for the light… and yet instead, I fractured, I festered… I turned my dreams into nightmares and refused to look past the smoke and mirrors I enveloped myself in….

It was never too late… to change… to try to help, to heal… 

So no, I don’t feel any more fear in my final moments, my heart conveying one thing instead....

Instead, oh instead, I only feel regret....

And remorse…

Perhaps Kieran was right to leave a purple hyacinth on every corpse. 

...and yet… as past, present, and future meld into one finale of furious fervor...

...even as the pain, sharp and startling, stars and embers and fires and colors light up my eyes before they begin to dim with the numbness that follows...

Bitterness fades into baneful benevolence. I take responsibility for the damages I have caused, and yet, even though I deserve it not, I imagine what it would be like, to be forgiven...

_Forgiveness._

I think of orchids. I think of Lauren and her daisies and Laurel leaves, crown flowers and rose blossoms blooming, her thorn of justice embedded in my heart, a perfect shot. I think of Kieran and his purple hyacinths and his stargazers, I think of purple spotted orchids. I think of the moon flowers of La Lune. I think of the wildflowers, the belladonnas that belong to Davenport, I think of myself and I ponder on alpine forget-me-nots, I think of my father and of roses, flowers blooming in every direction. 

_Forget me not._

_Remember me… forgive me…_

_...forgiveness…_

The world fades and I-

_I have hope for forgiveness._

……..

**Kieran**

_I’m alive_

Still shaken, still stuck in stunned stupor, I gently stroked Lauren’s crimson curls, watching the train whirl by as I knelt with her, my partner, my equal in every way.

_I’m alive…_

I tried not to think of the murderous glare in her eyes, I tried not to think of how I was so sure she was going to kill me, I tried not to think of the blood and her scream and how she almost fell on the tracks, how she almost died with him too, how I was a fraction of a second away from losing her. I tried not to think of whether she was justified, I tried not to think of I deserved to be shot alongside Dylan, if she would be better off without us both, but then I realized she would’ve easily killed us both if she so desired, but she had instead … she had spared me, and shot him instead. 

I tried to focus on how she was safe from him now, on how she had _saved_ me, I tried to think of how she was _alive_ , so very alive, so very _human,_ silver tears falling from golden eyes, embracing her, holding her together as if I let her go, I, too, would fall apart.

{And you, my father, there on the sad height}

I didn’t think of all the death I had experienced and brought about, I thought of humanity and of hope as I took in one glorious breath of air, exhaled, and took another, heart racing, a rush of relief following my revelation that I was, in fact, alive… and what a beautiful life it was. No matter what happened next… as I looked at Lauren Sinclair, once again I was reminded of the beauty of humanity … and reminded of what it felt like.

To be human.

_I’m alive…_

_And she is too …_

_Focus on that._

My tell tale heart pounded in my rib cage as I held Lauren to me, holding her tight to my chest as she sobbed into my shoulder, grabbing onto my shirt with her shaking hands.

_She spared me. She saved me._

{Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray}

Her tears cleansed my pain, the blood on my hands and the pain I had caused, I let relief surge through me, relief that she was ok, her heartbeat thrumming like a war drum against mine, my own heart aching painfully as the APD finally arrived, charging in, Sergeant Kym Ladell and her Lieutenant William Hawkes, eyes widening in horror behind white masks, my eyes flashing over to them and then flashing back to Lauren. She whimpered, hissing, “Nn-no, please-”

“Shh…,” I pressed my forehead against hers gently, closing my eyes. 

She sniffed, sitting back on her heels to look at me, golden eyes so full of _life_. Life, new beginnings, new hope despite all the cruelties and horrors they had experienced, La Lune was now under the harsh judgment of El Soleil, and now it was time for me to spare Lauren Sinclair from the harsh glare of the sun she had saved me from the jaws of death. 

_And it was in that moment, I knew what I had to do._

{Do not go gentle into that good night.}

…….

**Lauren**

_I killed him- I killed him-_ she thought, breathing heavily. 

In the same train station she had lost him. The same place she had ran through debris and fire to find him, spent 10 years looking, searching for him, begging he was alive-

Just to put a bullet in him, just for him to stagger back-

_The train killed him. Not you._

No. That was a _perfect_ shot. He would’ve died of blood loss, regardless of the train. She almost fell onto the tracks, how was she still alive, how was she here, with Kieran, _alive?_ She sobbed into his shoulder, arms wrapped around him, shuddering, shaking, hands grabbing onto him as if he were a lifeline, trying to calm her breathing, trying not to hyperventilate, trying not to think-

_Where did she go from now?_

At least, things couldn’t get worse, she told herself.

_Oh, how wrong she was._

Suddenly, one of Kieran’s arms left her, still kneeling beside her, hand going behind his back. She saw a glint of metal. “Don’t worry, **everything will be fine,”** he whispered. Her gaze snapped to the footsteps racing up the steps, seeing white masks and pristine APD uniforms- oh no, oh _no-_

“APD!” Kym Ladell yelled, the patrol unit racing in, her voice echoing off the walls, sunlight dancing over her features, her best friend, her- 

“Oh my god, Lauren?!” Kym gasped in horror.

“Get away from her!” Will yelled frantically, panic lighting up his eyes.

She looked back at Kieran, who was raising a knife over his head. Her eyes widened in shock as she caught his wrist, his other hand pinning her down, straddling her, his eyes flickering murderously. “Kieran?! Kieran!” She screamed, struggling, eyes widened in terror, brows furrowed in confusion.

“ **You’re such a fool,”** he lied, “Did you seriously expect me to have any sort of interest in you? **I was only using you for information.”** He raised his voice, snarling “The irony, that me, _THE PURPLE HYACINTH_ **_,_ ** was caught once and for all by the officer who chased him down the first night, just to die at his hand, **like I should’ve done when you cornered me.** Don’t worry. **Now I’m going to get rid of you once and for all - and I’ll have no regrets.”**

Lies, lies, lies-

It was then she understood his plan. “No. _No,”_ she groaned, horrified. “Don't do this, Kieran, _please-“_

His expression shattered for a moment, lips parting to say something, but his facade snapped back into place, sneering despite the pain painted in his eyes, holding the knife higher. “Oh look!” He exclaimed, giving a maniacal laugh, “Seems we have an audience! **_How fun to kill you in front of your friends. Perhaps I’ll kill them too!”_ **

“Stop,” she begged, choking on a sob as she shook her head, “ _Not this way_ -”

Agony flickered in his eyes. “This is the _only_ way,” he whispered.

“No, Kieran!! Don’t do this! Why are you doing this?! If one of us goes down, we go down together, right?!” She hissed, tears blurring her vision. He didn’t respond. Only sneered.

“Oh my god _he’s_ the Purple Hyacinth,” Williame breathed. 

Someone barked out a dry, bitter laugh. Stefan? What was HE there for?!

She saw Stefan glare at Williame in the corner of her eye. “Well, newly appointed _Colonel,_ arrest him, dammit-”

_What?_

“He could kill her! He’s _going_ to kill her!-” William panicked, breathing heavily, sky blue eyes wide.

Where was her Uncle-

Oh, there he was. Tristan Sinclair stood in the center of the party, his eyes flickering in fear behind his mask as he stared on in horror. “Ren-!”

Lauren’s vision blurred, reliving Dylan falling back onto the tracks, seeing the blood blooming from the bullet wound to his heart- her breathing turned ragged, making Kieran’s display all the more convincing.

“STAY AWAY FROM HER!” Kym screamed, running towards her. Always her loyal friend-

“KYM!” William screamed, but Kym was already raising her pistol, firing at Kieran’s arm. Kieran dodged, got off of Lauren, rolling and slashing out at Kym, metal blade clashing against her metal gun, Kym staring down the Purple Hyacinth with eyes of platinum gold, baring her teeth and screaming, “I TRUSTED YOU!”

Kieran laughed, pain flashing in his eyes, “What a stupid mistake, Sergeant.”

Kym blinked, grimace falling into a frown as she struggled with him, stepping one step forward to push him off balance, just for him to do the same, the two of them spinning around and clashing once more, eyes locked onto one another’s and flashing with fire. 

If only Kym knew that they were both fighting for the same reason: to protect _Lauren._

Lauren got to her hands and knees, Tristan running over to her and helping her up, his eyes wide, “Did he hurt you, did he- what did he-” he sputtered, and Lauren fought back the rush of tears, limping forward, “He’s- stop- you don’t understand-” she rasped, pushing at him.

Kieran and Kym stepped away from each other, the two of them getting into defensive stances, circling around each other like sharks before lunging at each other. Lauren could tell Kieran was holding back, but minimally, and she could only think about how this was _all her fault-_

_BANG._

Lauren flinched, Kieran’s eyes widened, and he ducked at the last second, tackling Kym to the ground as William fired his gun at Kieran, his blue eyes wild with fury.

The bullet pinged off of the floor, and Will broke into a sprint, screaming, “Kym! _KYM!”_

Kym kicked Kieran off of her, Kieran rolling and getting to a knee, slashing upwards at Kym but Williame tackled him to the ground before he could strike her, delivering a blow to his face, his stomach, his throat. Kieran rammed his head into Will’s, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him down. 

Stefan watched calmly with the rest of the patrol, hands folded atop his staff, judging William’s performance as he struggled and grappled with the Purple Hyacinth. 

Lauren couldn’t bear this. She struggled against her Uncle’s hold, who was barking out orders for the officers to block the exits and to not shoot unless they could get a clear shot, to try not to kill-

Kym was on her feet now, bringing her gun back and whacking the back of Kieran’s head with it. Kieran toppled off of Will, his eyes rolling back as he crumpled to the ground, pushing himself to his hands and knees as he tried to rise- but Will kicked him down.

Kieran groaned, reaching for his switchblade, but Kym kicked it into the air and caught it, twirling it as Will kicked Kieran again, in the ribs this time… and again.. and _again…_

Lauren turned and whimpered into her uncle’s shoulder, she couldn’t watch, she couldn’t bear it-

She forced herself to look, tears falling down her golden eyes and mixing with the blood spatters from Dylan on her face, ichor, the blood of gods spilled as another mortal paid the price for simply being _human._ She couldn’t fathom why Kieran saying she was a fool was a lie. He was certainly right. She was a fool, and a selfish hypocrite. _Delusional._ This was all her own doing.

Blood trickled down Kieran’s lip as he laughed, spitting out blood onto the floor as William forced him up to his knees, clamping handcuffs onto his wrists, aquamarine eyes flashing and flickering before dimming. 

Kym stood in front of him, storing Kieran’s blade and taking out her gun, pacing back and forth, eyes darkening. 

“I should kill you right now for all those innocent lives you’ve taken,” William growled. 

“Put me out of my misery, then, will you? I know you want to,” Kieran taunted, leering up at Kym, winking as he added in a conspiratorial tone, “ _I’ll take everything you’ve got.”_

Will forced his head down, snarling something in his ear, eyes flashing dangerously in an unrestrained, unhinged way that made even Lauren shudder. Kieran smirked at the ground, snarling, “Oh please, Lieutenant, I’m the Purple Hyacinth. **Death threats are like compliments to me, and there’s nothing I enjoy more than watching my victims suffer.”**

“Colonel, not Lieutenant,” Stefan corrected. Everyone glared at him. Kieran’s eyes flashed back to Lauren’s for a minute, expression blank, like it had been when she spotted him in the crowd before they made their deal. The clock tower chimed noon, and Lauren flinched as Kieran’s gaze dimmed as he looked away. 

“Kieran White. _The_ Purple Hyacinth,” Kym laughed dryly. “Damn, I should’ve seen it sooner. When she caught up to you in the alleyway… you knew her, even then, didn’t you? When you joined the precinct you manipulated her for _information_ , went under the false guise of dating when we caught you talking about meeting up. You’ve been playing her this _entire time…”_

Something was off about Kym’s words, not quite a lie, not quite a half truth, but they wavered in a way that showed she didn’t quite believe it. What was going on? A thousand emotions flashed in Kym’s eyes, and Kieran tensed, studying her intensely, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow. “And that surprises you?” He said, voice a rasp. “Why are you so surprised?”

She only stared at him, stepping closer and raising her firearm, aiming it at him. 

He swallowed hard, brows furrowing, eyes flashing in warning. Kym knew something else, didn’t she-

Then why?-

He stared up at Kym as she held the pistol to his head, hissing out a breath as Williame grabbed onto his hair, wrenching his head back. 

Kym stared at him, a challenging, but curious, yet conflicted look in her eyes. 

“Arrest him. He should pay for his crimes by rotting in a jail cell,” Stefan said.

“Oh, come on now, we both know I can easily escape some useless cuffs and even more useless bars,” Kieran said. “You can’t stop me unless you stop my heart, I’ll continue being the Leader’s little puppet until it kills me, because I’m trained that way, you see. The moment I try to rebel, everything is ruined… so why should I even _try_ to repent for my sins? I’m a _monster,_ and we all know this. Don’t be as incompetent as the rest of your fellow officers, Kym Ladell.” 

_No, no, no!-_ she couldn’t lose BOTH of them-

“Kmmph!-” Lauren tried to scream, but Tristan clamped a hand over her mouth, “Shh, Lauren, please calm down before I have to sedate you. You’re in shock, this _has_ to happen-”

Kym looked at Lauren. She looked back at Kieran.

“Oh. I see,” Kym said shakily, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. Her eyes opened. And she looked sad. _So_ sad. 

Will shuddered with rage, looking between Kym and Kieran as he snapped, “Shut up, Hyacinth, before I shoot you myself.”

_No, no, no-_

“Nnnnphh!-” Lauren let out another muffled scream of protest.

Kym’s eyes wavered as she slowly lowered her gun. Will’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he stayed silent. Kieran blinked, and then laughed. “Oh, Sergeant, you never fail to surprise me.” 

Tristan Sinclair released Lauren, and she lurched forward, staggering, limping slightly as she dropped to her knees before Kieran with a thud. 

She grabbed onto either side of Kieran’s face, shaking her head, “Kieran, Kieran, what are you doing?! They’ll kill you!! They’ll- stop, NO-” she screamed as Kym dragged her away from Kieran, back to her feet, holding her back and saying, “Lauren, he’s _the_ Purple Hyacinth.”

_I know he is, dammit!_ She wanted to scream. _I agreed to his deal. I’m Lune. I wanted to tell you. But now I’ve ruined everything. I truly am a selfish hypocrite._

Kym held her back, thrashing and screaming, her golden eyes blazing with rage. “Lauren-“

“NNN-No! NO- it’s my fault, it’s MINE, I can’t- I cant lose anyone else, please, * _please_ *-“ 

“She’s in shock,” Kieran said, eyes glittering with an unreadable expression. “In the alleyway when she chased me down, she saw my face and ****I threatened to kill her friends if she didn’t keep her mouth shut. She’s been my little pet ever since.**** But don’t worry, darling, you’re free now.”

Kym gave him another odd look, tilting her head in confusion. 

“Why?! Why are you doing this?!” Lauren screamed, Kym holding her tighter, eyes flickering in concern for her friend.

“ **I** manipulated her into killing her friend, isn’t that right Lauren? Kahahahaha,” Kieran laughed.

“Friend? Who-” Kym looked back at her.

Lauren’s knees buckled, “I killed him, I killed Dylan, I killed him, it wasn’t _you_ , **I** pulled the trigger-”

“ _Dylan_?!” Kym and Tristan exclaimed. “I thought he was dead-”

**“** He is now! **He’s been working as a double crossing agent for the Scythe, and I’ve been trying to track him down so I could eliminate him right before he spilled all of his lovely little secrets about us, and once I found out about Lauren’s little quest to find him, I started dating her to find him…** and she _did._ She’s truly spectacular,” he breathed. 

She flinched at the only truths in his speech.

“I _wanted_ him dead. **You were just my means to do so. My perfect weapon,** ” Kieran boasted, grinning madly as Will held him steady. 

Williame stared between them, torn, sky blue eyes clouded with confusion, brows furrowed, flinching as Stefan glared at them. “Sinclair’s. Unhinged and unqualified. Take her away from here.”

“I’ll have you remember, _Stefan,_ that _I’m_ the Chief of Police, dammit,” Tristan growled, grabbing Lauren from Kym gently and pulling her into a warm hug. 

“For now,” Stefan smirked at Will.

Lauren shuddered and sighed into her uncle’s warm embrace, hugging him back before stepping away from him, shaking slightly as she threw Stefan a venomous glare, stepping towards him. Kym grabbed her arm, throwing her a warning look. _Don't make things worse._

Tristan snapped, “You won’t touch a hair on her head, she’s been through enough.”

“Then control your _naive_ niece, _Tristan_ ,” Stefan growled.

Williame’s eyes darkened as he tugged on Kieran’s cuffs so he was forced to his feet. 

Kieran, smirked without an inch of mirth.

“It is my great pleasure to announce - You’re under arrest, _Kieran White_ ,” he said, eyes flashing. Kieran laughed dryly as Williame continued, “For the merciless murder of countless innocents under the title of The Purple Hyacinth.”

Lauren refused to sob as Will dragged him away from her, Kym releasing her arm to grab onto Kieran’s other shoulder.

Kieran craned his neck to look back at Lauren, but Kym wracked the barrel of her gun over Kieran’s head, knocking him unconscious. She refused to sob as Kieran slumped forward, shaking her head as silent tears streamed down her face, feeling as if she was burning, burning, burning. She tried to ignore how knocking him out was a small mercy, she tried to ignore as the two of them forced him out through the door, refusing to sob as the rest of the police followed, guns aimed at him despite his unconscious state, refused to sob as she watched his feet drag on the ground. She refused to sob as the people outside cheered that the Purple Hyacinth was defeated, hailing Kym and Will as heroes as they held their heads up high but refused to smile, knowing the toll it had taken on Lauren but not knowing _why_ , she refused to sob as she saw her reflection in a mirror on the wall, a bloodstained face with bloodshot eyes and dark under circles that looked like the shadow of an eclipse, the colors of ash and smoke. The searing light of the sun stared her down as she stepped outside, shuddering in the bitter cold. 

“Come on Lauren, let’s go home, and you can take a nice warm shower, and go rest,” Tristan said quietly. “You can tell me everything whenever you wish, but as for now, you need rest.”

She nodded soundlessly and stepped beside him as they returned to the Sinclair Estate, trying to ignore the silence in her heart, knowing she was the only one to blame for Dylan’s and Kieran’s fates. 

She still didn’t sob, rather suffered through the pain of holding it all in, because if she did cry, she didn’t know if she could stop. 

But she had to keep moving. Had to keep going.

This was not over…..

{Rage, rage against the dying of the light.}

…….Back in her home, Lauren stood before her murder board, frowning at all the pictures upon the wall. She removed the red thread, wrapping some of the string around her wrists and snapping it in half, tossing it into the waste bin. Dylan’s first cap floated down, and she scowled, hands curling into fists. She tore down one picture, and then the next, screaming as she tore at the board, even as the paper cut into her fingers, tearing and clawing and ripping and throwing and kicking it until it was bare. She sunk to her knees in the puddle of papers, grabbing onto her hair, taking a deep breath and looking to the side, seeing the moon shining.

And a rustling noise. A figure climbing up the windowsill. She reached for her weapon, but she had left the pistol on the table, her eyes widening in shock as-

Kym Ladell climbed through the window, getting up and brushing herself off, taking a leaf out of her hair and flicking it to the side, laughing lightly to herself as she slung a duffel bag over her shoulder, which dropped to the ground with a low thud.

“AHHH!” Lauren grabbed a newspaper, hurling it at her. Kym dodged the newspaper, eyes widening as she hissed, “SHHH!!”

“Kym?! It’s like- it’s-”

“Late. And, like I figured, _you’re_ still awake.” She grinned, but then smiled sadly at the disheveled state Lauren was in. “Taking down your board.”

Lauren nodded silently. 

Kym’s eyes lit up with a mischievous glint as she took out a lighter and, flicking on the flame, smiled. “Need some help?”

“Yes, please,” Lauren said, adding, “but maybe we should use the actual fireplace before we burn my house down.” 

… downstairs, Kym cheered each time Lauren hurled something into the fire, the both of them laughing as she ripped one of the photographs in half.

“Lauren, is everything o-” Tristan paused at the door.

The two of them looked at him. “Ooookay. Ok.” He smiled. “I’ll be upstairs, but let Lucy know if you need anything.” 

Kym snickered, Lauren smiled, watching as the paper and film of photographs burned in the flickering fire. Her smile dropped as she watched Dylan’s cap burn in the flames, hearing him gasp in shock, seeing him fall back from the bullet’s impact, reaching out for him, the stunned shock in his silver eyes, _Ren-_

She shook away the memory, trying not to think of it, tossing a newspaper into the fire. 

Once all the remains of the board were burnt to ash, Kym turned to her, saying, “I came here to give you something.”

Lauren tilted her head, watching as she held up a pair of golden keys that jangled, illuminated in the firelight. Lauren’s eyes widened, wavered. “Are those-” she whispered.

“The keys to Kieran’s cell,” she nodded, “I asked Will, and he said they’re holding him in the tower. I filled out and forged all the paperwork myself, you’ll be able to take your guard shift in 1 hour if you want to save him.”

“What?? How would they let me be a guard-”

Kym reached into her bag, taking out a prison guard outfit and lifting it up. Black font on a golden name tag proudly announced “Luna Claire: Clearance Level 10.”

“I played around with your name. Lauren. Sinclair. Luna Claire. I know, I’m a genius,” Kym announced proudly.

“How-” Lauren gaped at the badge, incredulous. 

“I have my ways,” she winked. “I even got an outfit for Kieran too!” She whispered excitedly. “But I didn’t have time to find him a name tag.” 

“Wait, Kym, why are you doing this? You _know_ he’s… he’s The Purple Hyacinth,” Lauren sputtered, looking left and right before looking back at her.

Her eyes darkened. “He’s also Lune. As are you..” she smirked, “Another reason why your name tag says Luna. A little inside joke for me.

  
  


Lauren stared in astonishment.

Kym continued, “I pieced it together in the Train Station. When you caught up to him, you must’ve made some sort of deal… to work together and take down the Phantom Scythe..”

Lauren didn’t try to deny it, just stared in shock.

“Look, I may not know everything that’s going on… but if you trust him, then let me help you.”

Lauren nodded soundlessly, shaking her head in astonishment.

Kym continued, “I may not have your lie detecting ability, but I know when someone is bluffing. He was creating a diversion. A distraction. A damn good one. So you wouldn’t be charged for the murder of Dylan Rosenthal, and so they couldn’t figure out you both were Lune or you’d _both_ be arrested.”

“ _How-_ I-” she cringed. 

“Why did you kill Dylan, anyways? How was he even _alive?_ What _happened? Why didn’t you tell me?”_ Kym sighed in frustration, throwing her hands in the air. “I thought we were best friends. Best friends tell each other important stuff like this.”

“He wasn’t.. the same… Dylan…” she sputtered, tugging slightly at her necklace, , “He was working for.. the Phantom Scythe… he tried to convince me, _manipulate_ me into killing Kieran and I…I almost did but then I-... I-”

Kym’s eyes widened. 

“I shot him instead,” Lauren’s lip quivered, fierce facade shattering as Kym pulled her into a hug, Lauren breaking down into sobs as she said, “I killed him, Kym, I killed him, I-”

“Shhh…”

It was too much like how Kieran had held her. “And now, and now-” she held tighter onto her friend, shaking. 

“You can save him, Lauren. I’ll cover for you. Say you’re sick at home, recovering from everything or something, until you can get him somewhere safe.”

“What about- what about my Uncle-” she sniffled, angrily wiping away her tears.

“I… I don’t know, I just… I’ll just say you’re with me then. Just try and get back as soon as possible.”

“What if they search your house-” Lauren asked, trying not to panic at all the things that could go wrong. “What if Will finds out, what if-”

“Lauren _stop_ with the “what-if’s”, these ceaseless what-if’s are probably what got you into this mess in the first place! Williame will be _fine_ , but I’ll keep this all between us for the time being. Let’s stop _panicking_ about the ways the future could go wrong, stop _dwelling_ on the past, and live your life for once. I’m giving you a second chance to fix things before he’s gone as well, I know you care about him, and he does about you too, I could _see_ it in your eyes.”

“Kym, the dating was a ruse, a lie, an alibi, we’re not, he-” Lauren sputtered.

“Uh huh and when was the last time I was wrong about something?.. and even when I _was_ I figured it out and I’m telling you, you both are _blind_ as _bats_ but I still have _hope-”_ she sang the last word, and Lauren sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“It’s a leap of faith. Follow your gut instead of being constantly weighed down with the guilt and delusional impression that everything is your fault. _Open your eyes._ What does your head tell you? What does your _heart_ tell you?”

“I need…” she took a shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter what I need, what I _want-_ I’m nothing but a selfish hypocrite-”

She grabbed onto Lauren’s shoulders, staring in her eyes, brows furrowing as she said, “We all have our flaws.. and sometimes, we have to be a little selfish, Lauren. We’re not gods, we’re _human._ And this? _This_ is much bigger than you and me, Kieran’s _life_ is at stake, and is your sanity. You may think you’re alone, but you’re not. We care about you. Why else do you think Will and I faced down _The Purple Hyacinth_ when we thought he was threatening you? We can’t lose you. We need you. _I_ need you. So what do _you_ need, Lauren? Let us help you.” 

She paused, and then took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

When she opened her eyes 

“I need to save him.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Kym chanted, bubbling with excitement as she stood up and proclaimed, “ you gave me anxiety when I thought you’d say no but now that plan Rescue Kieran is a go I’ll gladly comply!”

Lauren laughed, swatting at her, “Kym, shhh, before my uncle arrests us!”

“At least I’ll be safe from Williame’s endless paperwork!” Kym laughed. She stiffened, then looked at the clock.“Time is running out.”

“I know,” Lauren sighed, standing up, the light of the moon shining on the floor near the window where they stood. They both looked out the window, at the moon, the stars, the breeze rustling in. “I can’t believe we’re rescuing _the Purple Hyacinth_. We’ve surely lost our minds.”

“Oh yes we definitely are out of our minds, but don't worry. I’ve got your back.” Kym said with a scheming smirk. Lauren grinned back.

The moon and stars watched on….

{Do not go gentle into that good night}

…..Lauren pulled her hat low enough so it obscured her eyes, crimson hair pulled up into a bun. The night sky watched her through the windows as she reached the top level of the tower, showing her badge to anyone who asked, walking in like she owned the place, even though her heart hammered every step of the way. “New hire?” A female voice called.

One of the guards, their own face obscured in the shadows, hand on her hip, smirk evident in their voice.

“Yes.”

“Hmmph. What’s in the bag?” She nodded to Lauren’s duffel bag.

Lauren forced a smile as her heart raced, keeping her voice steady as she said, “Change of clothes, files, water, ammo. The usual.”

“Next time, know the lockers are downstairs,” she purred, waving her on. 

“Noted,” Lauren replied on with a brisk nod, continuing on, surprised by how _easy_ it was to infiltrate the highest level of security in the prison. She walked down the hall, trying not to think of how Kieran had killed all the Lune convicts in these very walls, tried not to think how he must’ve felt, tried not to think of everything that had happened in the cave. She had to keep going. She reached the solitary confinement cell where Kieran was being held, two guards at the door raising their rifles. She flashed her badge. 

“Thank god,” one of them breathed. “I was about to collapse. Goodnight!” He called, waving to his partner.

Lauren schooled her features into a stiff smile as she dipped her head, taking her position behind the guard.

“New hire? I haven’t seen you around these parts. How did they give you such high security clearance for being a rookie?” The guard barked.

“I’m something of a prodigy if I do say so myself,” Lauren retorted.

“Hmm.” 

The other guard’s footsteps receded down the hall, and Lauren whispered, “It’s surreal, knowing The Purple Hyacinth is behind these bars.”

“Ha! He’s simply a puppet whose strings have been cut, a man without a soul who takes lives for his sadistic pleasure like the rest of those Phantom Scythe scoundrels.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Excuse me?” The man turned to her, but her hands were already secured around her pistol, bringing it back and slamming the barrel against the guard’s head. She grabbed onto his collar as he reeled back, watching him shift in and out of consciousness, saying, “I’ve seen people without a soul. And he isn’t one. He’s different,” she hissed into his ear as he crumpled to his knees. 

She set him down, opening her bag quickly and taking out the keys, unlocking the door and dragging the guard in by his feet, closing the door behind her, reloading her pistol in case there were any more guards inside. There were none. Silence settled over the room, the keys jangling as she turned towards Kieran’s cell, dropping the duffel bag on the floor.

“Changed your mind, officer?” Kieran rasped. He was on the far side of the cell, back against the wall, sitting in the patch of moonlight filtering in from the barred window high up in his cell. His hands were bound in front of him, handcuffs chafing his wrists, his eyes flickering dimly as his electric blue eyes flashed from her gun to her face. Lingering in the only light of the cell, she could see the bruises and injuries decorating his figure. He looked alive, however, looking almost … _relieved.._ whatever for?

She turned, his eyes flashing to her name tag pin, then back to her, sighing and tilting his head back, running a hand through his hair. A manacle was locked around his ankle and chained to the wall, and she studied him through the iron bars, fighting back tears. _I did this._

“I heard you outside. I’m afraid you’re hard to forget,” he laughed dryly, chains clanking as he shifted, briefly looking her up and down before looking away, expression shuttering, lips curling into a frown.

She removed her hat, dropping it to the floor, approaching him and grabbing onto the bars with one hand, flinching as her skin made contact with the frigid iron bar, the bars separating them as she stepped closer, taking out the tie holding her crimson hair into a bun, shaking her head out, golden eyes flashing and locking on his. They stared, lost in space, the moonlight spilling over his figure, raven hair tousled but tied up with its white ribbon. Bruised and beaten, yet devastatingly beautiful, blue eyes flickering like the waves at sea, painfully human, looking almost at peace with her presence alone. How? How was he still looking at her with something other than hate?

Her eyes scanned over him, his eyebrow still notched, a scar over where his lip had been split, dark circles under his eyes, shirt tattered, pants scuffed, chest rising and falling as he stood and limped forward, staring deep into her eyes, and sunk to his knees again, grabbing onto the bars and peering up at her, eyebrows furrowed, jaw set, shuddering slightly at the events that had scarred them both beyond repair. 

_“Not this way!”_

_“This is the only way.”_

He didn’t deserve this.

“ _She’s in shock. In the alleyway when she chased me down, she saw my face and **_ **_I threatened to kill her friends if she didn’t keep her mouth shut. She’s been my little pet ever since.**_ ** _But don’t worry, darling, you’re free now.”_

Is this what freedom was? 

* _No, Kieran!! Don’t do this! Why are you doing this?! If one of us goes down, we go down together, right?!*_

“Here to finish the job?” Kieran asked, his voice hollow, ragged, eyes flickering sadly. He smiled. “I’d rather die at your hand than suffer a lifetime behind bars, but I’ll accept whatever justice you think I deserve.”

_Justice_...is that what this was?

She gritted her teeth, fighting the memories rushing back, everything, everything they had been through together-

He grimaced as he forced himself to his feet, shuddering and bracing himself against the bars, staring into her eyes. 

“You knocked out the guard. There won’t be any witnesses, don’t worry. Like Hemlock said, let’s end this once and for all, shall we? I made you kill him. Your childhood friend...” his eyes scanned over the silver necklace, the diamond studded daisy pendant glowing in the moonlight. His teeth gritted, and she remembered the murderous, horrified look in his eyes as he stood in the doorway, the ocean waves of his voice crashing against her as he said, “We don’t have much time, Lauren.. please.. just get it over with..” he bowed his head. She remembered how badly she had wanted him dead, she remembered how he had smiled and said it was ok, she remembered holding the pistol to his heart, and turned the gun on Dylan instead.

If she could go back.. 

She shook her head. Dylan was dead. 

And deep down… she remembered his lips on hers, the smoke and mirrors of his silver tongue and silver eyes, she remembered the disorientation warring with disgust, the toxic dream which she had finally awakened from.

_Deep down…_

_She didn’t regret her decision._

She stared into the abyss of Kieran’s eyes, fighting back tears as she snarled, “That wasn’t the Dylan Rosenthal I knew. _That_ was a soulless specter... a manipulative _monster_ ...” she fiddled the choker, taking a ragged breath. He flinched at the word * _monster_ *, eyes going dim. 

_“Kill him! He’s a monster and he always will be!”_

“You know what the worst part is?” She hissed, shuddering. She grabbed onto the bars with one hand, slamming the flat side of her fist against them, the bars rattling, echoing in her head like the toll of a bell. “If he showed up right now, I would shoot him again. And again. And I wouldn’t scream this time. I’d _smile_ . I’m more of a monster than you’ll ever be. I’m a selfish hypocrite who should be behind bars instead of the literal _assassin. Are you scared of me, Kieran White?”_ She snarled, “You _should_ be scared of me. I could shoot you right now and be hailed as a hero. That’s the bitter reality, isn’t it? The world isn’t black and white, but the world desperately tries to think it is. They never see the complexities of charcoal. The cruelties of carbon.”

Lauren laughed as she saw the golden light of her own reflecting in his eyes, his expression unreadable. _It felt like looking in a mirror._ Vulnerability on display, despite how guarded they both were, two diamonds who were unbreakable by anyone other than each other… and when diamond broke… they shattered, and Lauren Sinclair could feel herself fracturing as Kieran sadly shook his head. “No Lauren, your pursuit of justice was simply to find peace for yourself. There’s nothing more human than that… wanting a single shred of.. peace.. in a world led by chaos and ruin. I know what it feels like, to stare in the mirror and try and scrub the blood off my hands, but it’s always there… it’s always there… you’re not a monster… you reminded me what it feels like to be human… you don’t scare me.. you .. you _surprise_ me.. it fascinates me.. how you continue to.. to fight… to fight for everything you believe in…” he trailed off, trying to say something they both knew he wouldn’t dare to.

“I’m like a fire,” Lauren spat, “I destroy everything, I burn everything, I ruin everything.”

“Forest fires allow for things to regrow… to be born anew… you… you are living proof that redemption is possible… you are living proof that redemption is possible… _forgiveness is possible..._ So go on, Lauren… we both know the scales of justice need to be balanced. If this is how our story ends, I’m satisfied.” He reached for her pistol, hand brushing against hers, but she shook her head, releasing the bars and grabbing at her hair furiously.

“You don’t understand!! I’m not here to kill you!” She screamed, staring at the floor and pacing back and forth before whirling to face him. “I’m here to _save_ you!” 

His eyes darkened, cuffed hands still grabbing onto the bars. 

“Why?!” He yelled back. “I don’t deserve it!-”

“I can’t lose anyone else!!!” She yelled, voice echoing off of the walls.

No one came, for screams were common in a prison. 

A pause.

Silence. 

Kieran released the bars, stepped back, tilted his chin up. “So selfish of you, officer.”

Lauren pinched the bridge of her nose, grabbing onto the back of her neck, taking in a ragged breath and turned away, shoulders hunching as she fought back a sudden wave of tears. She whimpered, shaking her head, furiously wiping the tears away as she choked back a sob. _No, no, what was she even doing here-_

Had she made a _mistake-_

“Lauren... don’t panic... please...” Kieran said softly, his voice breaking and shattering her heart. “I didn’t mean- I-”

The ruby red fragments of her agonized heart splintered and stabbed deep into her, and bled, pain wreaking through her. She couldn’t even look at him. 

She turned around, tears brimming in her eyes, and she felt so * _tired_ *, so * _tired_.*

She covered her face, grabbing onto her hair and pacing, breathing turning rapid, both hands raising up to cover her face. 

She blindly stumbled over to Kieran’s cell, crashing against it, faltering and crumpling to the ground, sinking to her knees, back pressed against the bars as she broke down into sobs. She was slipping into the deep end, lost in the dream that had turned into a nightmare, silently screaming for some sort of sign that-

“Lauren, _please_ ,” Kieran begged. “I can’t bear to see you like this...”

She lapsed into silence, grabbing at the silver pendant, feeling as if she were suffocating again, remembering the taste of Dylan’s lips, his smile, his murderous eyes, chanting for Kieran’s blood, his terrified eyes as he recoiled from the bullet wound blooming in his shirt, as he stumbled onto the tracks, Kieran wrenching Lauren back to reality, just to be torn from her too. 

Lauren was losing control-she was losing everything-all over again-she was so blind, even now-

She heard Kieran shift, and had a distinct feeling of him leaning against the bars, calming her breathing as his aura washed over her like soothing waves of the starlit sea at sunset. 

Once her sobs stilled, she could hear the faint _skrr skritch scratch skrr skrr_ of a pencil against parchment. 

She turned, shifted to the side, glanced down at Kieran shakily sketching something beside him, his eyes shut, lips twisted down into a painful grimace, head tilted up to the moonlight just out of reach. “What… what are you drawing?” She whispered. His eyes flashed open and his frown shifted into a soft smile. He didn’t say anything.

“It’s the only thing I requested. Paper and pencil. And they gave me a dull one, afraid I’d stab someone with it,” he laughed softly, shifting and standing, and she turned, mirroring the motion. 

_Let’s try this again._

He handed her the paper, and she stared down at a sketch of Kym lowering her pistol, eyes widened with a revelation, a sketch of Will’s face, his eyes flickering in concern off to the side of it.

“The Miracle of Mercy,” he said softly, eyes flashing back to her. “Keep it. To remember..” his aquamarine eyes wavered. 

_Why did you hesitate_? 

_Mercy_. Is that what that was? 

The hyacinths were all apologies after all, weren’t they? 

She shakily folded the paper and pocketed it, closed her eyes, covered her face in her hands, breaking down into sobs, shaking her head. Crying in front of The Purple Hyacinth. Pathetic.

She heard his chains clinking, a hiss of pain, and two hands on her wrist, anchoring her back to reality, prying her hands away from her face. 

And it was in that moment that Lauren Sinclair opened her eyes and * _saw_ * him. _Truly_ saw him for who he was. Kieran White. She could see him, in every real, vivid, human color, raw emotion, no smoke and mirrors, vulnerability displayed on his face, but a fierce expression in his eyes that gave her hope, sparked the fight in her once more-

_Forgiveness._ Perhaps they both deserved a fragment of it.

He tenderly wiped the tears from her eyes, cupping her face in his hands, steadying her, staring at her, Lauren’s hands gripping into the bars, lip trembling. 

He stepped closer, her pulse racing, feeling * _alive_ *, eyes wide with clarity, focusing on him and him alone, breathing in... out... like an ocean wave, closing his eyes and leaning forward, forehead pressing against the bars, eyes sliding open again. She mirrored him, closing her eyes as his forehead rested against hers through the bars, the screams and the sobs lapsing into silent starlight, her eyes like the candlelight in the dark as they opened, studying him and his furrowed brows, the tension between them slowly ebbing away like the tides receding… He sighed as she reached forward, hands clasped, fingers intertwining, tugging each other closer, making a new sort of deal, one made between _equals,_ purging each other’s pain, his pulse in his wrist thrumming against her thumb, electricity surging through them, a tranquil tide washing over them as he stood there, so close to her, skin against skin, yet still separated by iron. 

She reached in with her other hand, and fumbled with his handcuffs, a lockpick in hands, until it gave a soft * _click_ *. Kieran looked up, eyes widening as the handcuffs fell to the ground with a metal clang. “So that’s what you can do with handcuffs?” He offered, laughing softly. “Oh I can do much better than that,” She laughed, tears coming to her eyes. Her hands grabbed onto the bars again, his freed hands returning to her face, thumb brushing gently over her lips. She smiled, and his expression turned very serious, brows furrowing. 

He took in a shaky breath, and she tilted her head to the side slightly, curiosity dancing through her. His eyes flashed to her lips, and then back up to her. Not even Lauren Sinclair was fireproof, and she was burning, burning alive, and then, before she could realize what was happening, when his lips crashed on hers, she felt a surge of life humming through her, holding him closer, tangling a hand through his hair. She whimpered against his mouth as her heart sped up, beating faster and faster. It felt so _right_ as his lips pressed passionately against hers, kissing him back with just as much as fervor, brows furrowing, eyes squeezing shut, their kiss tasting of sea salt and metal, of passion and pain, but of something else far more powerful.... She groaned as his gentle kiss turned rough, lips parting for him as his tongue slipped into her mouth, tangling with hers. 

They parted for a breath, gasping before she kissed him again, other hand wrapping around him, nails digging into his back. He stepped forward, grabbing onto the necklace, tugging gently so she was flush against him. Her eyes slid open, flickering with confusion through the bars, his eyes flashing with something thrillingly fierce as he wrenched his hand back, tearing the silver chain from her neck off with so much force the chain snapped in a split second, the impact relatively painless and, the sound reverberating around the cell. Her golden eyes flashed in shock and awe and his eyes went half lidded as they flickered with an unspoken message that both could feel through every fiber of their being: _you freed me, now let me free you._

Her eyes wavered in wonder, a feeling of freedom flowing through her for once despite being in the middle of the most secure prison in Ardhalis, despite the bars separating them. 

She gasped as his head dipped, kissing her neck gently, erasing the pain, healing each other with every touch, her fingers curling against his scalp, eyes fluttering closed. 

An unspoken understanding found in the pursuit of peace.. peace...

That’s what this feeling was. 

_Peace_.

“What did you try to tell me, in- in the train station?-” she sputtered breathlessly. “Hmm?” he kissed her again **.**

“Tell me,” she growled, biting his lower lip, eliciting a gasp from him, tasting the metallic tang of blood from where it was split on her tongue.

_“Lauren I-,” Kieran started. “No matter what I-... I…”_ what was it he wanted to say? Clearly not “I’m sorry” or he, he would’ve-

“ **_I don’t know what you mean,”_ **he breathed.

Fueled by knowing his words were a lie, she tangled her hand in his hair, pulling him down, trying to force the answer out of him with an even fiercer kiss. However, when she tried to do so, as if he could read her intentions, he backed up just out of reach, tilting his head back. She frowned, eyes opening, tugging him closer, and he turned his head at the last second. Frustration boiled through her, and he noticed this, tugging her closer-

Just to hover back, so their lips were inches apart, but not letting either of them close the distance. He smirked smugly as he teased her again, pursing his lips into a thin line, eyes flickering with amusement. 

How _dare_ he-

“You insufferable, _unbelievable_ -,” she growled in frustration, playfully pushing him away, and smirked as Kieran raised a brow. “Leaving me so soon?”

She furiously took out the keys, hands shaking as she jostled the door, eyes flashing with golden fire as she unlocked the door and wrenched it open.

“Shut up, subordinate,” she snarled.

Kieran gave a feral smile as Lauren strode into the cell, desperately grabbing onto either side of his face, aggressively seizing his lips in hers, and forcing him against the wall. “ _Lauren_ ,” He groaned, hands holding her hips like he did when he had brought her to his apartment, when he had placed her upon the counter to stitch her arm from her free fall. As if he remembered it too, his hands gripped harder onto her hips, pushing her back, back, back.

Her arm throbbed at the memory, and she staggered back, falling against the bars as he stepped forward, his hips against hers. 

“ _Kieran_ ,” She gasped as he grabbed onto her thigh, tugging her against him, her leg hooking around his waist as he kissed her deeply, the two of them swaying as her hand held onto his jaw, other hand anchored in his hair. 

“I- I want you to know,” she sputtered as he stepped back, the two of them swaying as they balanced themselves against each other, his hand tightening his grip on her leg to keep her steady, simply another tango in the middle of the infamous Tower… she smiled a silly smile at the absurdity of it all, and his returning grin made her heart throb. “I choose you, I always had…” her smile dropped, and his brows furrowed, blinking in confusion. “Even when.. when I was with Dylan-” His name was like blood in the water, spreading everywhere and contaminating everything. Kieran’s eye twitched slightly but he listened attentively, still holding onto her despite this, her hand grabbing onto his back, other hand twirling a lock of his hair around her finger. She took a deep breath, looked up at him, “I only thought of you.. and if you had my ability.. you’d know I’m not lying..”

His eyes widened, and he whispered softly, his lips so close to hers she could feel the words against her mouth. 

“In the train station… I wanted to tell you that …” he braced himself, tucking a strand of crimson hair behind her ear. “I love you, Lauren Sinclair. No matter what.”

_It wasn’t a lie._

She exhaled a sharp breath, and his eyes dropped to her lips. A thousand perpetually pent up emotions surged like electricity between them as their lips met again, Kieran letting out a soft muffled noise against her lips as she let the tears fall down her face, sighing into the kiss. The spark incited into an inferno, but washed away into pure bliss as their kiss turned languorous, Kieran dipping her slightly, La Lune caught in a dance of flames and floods, ice and scorching fire, yin and yang, so similar but yet so different that they understood each other and balanced one another out perfectly… in complete, and total satisfaction unlike any she had ever felt before.

She pulled away, and Kieran did as well, the two of them parting as if they were stepping away from a spar, destined to end their duels with mutual dignity. 

“Dammit, is Kym really right about everything?” Lauren muttered under her breath, grinning slightly.

“It seems so.” Kieran laughed, running a hand through his hair, “but she’s wrong about thinking Will hates her. It’s quite the opposite, I think.” 

_Finally someone understands!_

“Ugh I know right, they’re so perfect for each other-” 

“Lauren, Lauren,” he held out a hand, smiling, “as much as I enjoy this, I’m afraid we’ve both lost our concept of time.”

_Oh ...shoot._

“We should probably .. leave .. before the guards rotate and find us like this,” he chuckled, teeth flashing in a grin. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk when I’m on the run with no one else to turn to.” He held his hand to his head dramatically, smirking. 

“You mean… when we’re on the run as fugitives with a bounty of our heads _if_ someone sees us on the way out,” she fired back, shooting him a death glare that made him laugh harder. 

She checked her watch and her eyes widened. _Damn he’s right._ She quickly walked over to the duffel bag, rummaging through it.

“Myeah,” he nodded. “ _If_.” 

She scoffed and then said, “Kieran, your face-”

“Huh?”

She tossed the duffel bag at him, and it collided with his chest, almost knocking him over as he skidded back, catching it. “Ow.”

“HA!-” she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and grinning at him smugly. 

He scowled and rolled his eyes before taking out the uniform, nodding. “Smart.”

“Thank Kym for that, too. The keys are also in there as well, so you can take off your little anklet you’ve got there.”

“Oh, right, almost forgot that was there,” he smirked, quickly unlocking and unclamping the manacle around his ankle, shaking his leg and stretching dramatically. He tore off his shirt, bare back hunching over as he took the time to fold its tattered remains before stuffing it in the bag. He turned, looking at Lauren, raising a brow. She glanced quickly at his toned torso before angrily glaring to the side of the wall. “Scoundrel.” 

“Oh _pardon_ me,” he clutched his heart dramatically, taking out the new uniform and scowling at it. “So pretentious for a _prison_ guard.”

“They pride themselves on their ability to stand still and not fall asleep,” she retorted. 

“Very true. Lazy lot.”

She laughed incredulously, staring intensely at the wall as he changed. “If a year ago someone told me I’d end up _here_ with the _Purple Hyacinth_ of all people I’d probably shoot them on the spot for such a suggestion.” 

“How scandalous of us,” he said with a chuckle, shrugging on his shirt and fixing the buttons, leaving the top unbuttoned and putting on his cap. She bit her lower lip, and then held out her hand. He took it, fingers intertwining with hers as he limped out of the cell.

“Will you be ok?” She inquired, feeling a pang as he staggered slightly, grip on her hand tightening. 

“Oh yeah I’ve been through much worse than this. Amateurs,” he smirked. “I just … need to find my footing. Stretch a bit more. I’ll be fine.” He gave a half shrug. 

“I swear your ego alone is going to get you arrested again.”

“Likewise.” 

She grinned to herself. 

“So, where do we go from here?” He added, adjusting the collar to his outfit as they stepped outside , his hand in hers. 

“Let’s get out of here,” she said with a smile, arm linking with his. The dawn was far from sight, but in the twilight, even the stars seemed to murmur that perhaps there was hope for La Lune after all. 

_Epilogue_

**Belladonna**

Belladonna Davenport smirked as she sauntered into the circus tent, twirling her dagger and ripping open the seal of the letter.

She had followed La Lune and Hemlock to the train station, and managed to slip away and took the opportunity to eliminate a pesky man who had been leering at two young girls about her age when she had been abducted. She made sure to make the murder bloody, using a normal knife -

she had washed off the blood from killing a man who was being ..difficult .. and ..bothering ..two girls, and used a purple hyacinth she always had hidden on her in case she needed to frame Kieran for something to make her acting more convincing.

It’s not like Dylan told her to do that. She just felt like having a little more fun with them before they all killed each other. Running away crying was definitely the most entertaining part. She had slipped into the lady’s restroom within the train station to touch up her makeup and laugh for a while, and then stuck around to see the blood on the train tracks, Kieran get dragged off in cuffs, Lauren screaming and struggling as her friends held her back.

Not in the mood to have her theatrics interviewed by the APD, she slipped away into the shadows.

Then, when she reached the circus once more, she had waited until she heard the official news of Dylan’s death before she infiltrated the tower to keep an eye on Kieran, make sure they didn’t get rid of him just yet. Also, she had been curious to see if the Sinclair girl would save him. 

Now that La Lune was on the run and Hemlock was gone, as a final favor, she would indulge Dylan’s request to read the letter he had written for her.

“Hey _Sunshine_ , where’s everyone?” She purred as she sauntered into the circus tent, glancing at the letter’s exterior, pitifully pursing her lips at Dylan’s familiar penmanship. 

“To: Belladonna 

From: Hemlock.”

Apollo looked up, “They’re all off practicing. As was I before _you_ sauntered in,” he said with a low growl, finishing up the song he was playing. _Carol of the Bells._

“I love Carol of the Bells! So festive of you,” she purred, taking out the letter. 

“What's that?” He inquired, hearing the paper crinkling, hands pausing their playing on the piano, looking up, pushing his blindfold off and blinking at her with blue eyes, running a hand through his blonde hair as he turned around, balancing his head on his hands, elbows on his knees.

“Mm. Insurance. A favor. An empty threat. Who knows. It’s a _message.”_ She winked flirtatiously, sitting down next to him and crossing her legs.

He rolled his eyes, peering over her shoulder as she read.

_Dear Belladonna,_

_My wildflower, I’m afraid I’m going to need you to do one more favor for me. I know you love dancing with fire, so, I’m sure this will appeal to you. Incite a wildfire, I know you’re a wildcard and you don’t follow orders unless they suit you, but consider this a request in case things go south. Everything is going to plan, but it’s always when things seem like they’re in your favor when the wheel of fortune tends to take a turn. You’ll find the instructions listed below, and I think you’ll have some fun with them. This is in both our best interests, I assure you._

_It’s just that … if I can’t have Ren..._

_No one will._

_When you expose them, do so in a way that there will not be a single shred of doubt when they say Kieran White and Lauren Sinclair are La Lune in the papers._

_If they’re on the run, make sure they never see the light of day._

_Make sure the Purple Hyacinth suffers._

_Make sure when you spark an inferno, everything and everyone they love goes down in flames._

_Attached is all the evidence you need to incriminate them._

_If I’m alive and well after this final showdown, I will be in contact with you to make these requests null and void, unless you decide otherwise, of course._

_And one more final request…_

_**Forget me not.** _

_~ Dr. Hemlock_

……

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he snarled.

“Hush,” she silenced him with a snap, eyes hungrily looking over the letter’s contents. 

{ Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light. }

“Oh Dylan,” she said with a sly but sinister smirk, amber eyes glowing with the flame of a wildfire, “Who am I to deny you your final request?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m ArchiveOsprey, Ospreys  
> eat fish, Dylan is a sardine, there was no way he was making it out of this fic alive 🐟 🤍 
> 
> Thanks for reading Hemlock! 
> 
> But fear not, although this is the finale of Hemlock, this is not the end.
> 
> This is the end of part 1: The Poison, and the beginning of part 2: The Cure.
> 
> Introducing the Sequel: Curare 
> 
> Curare is a poisonous plant that kills similarly to Hemlock but the word itself looks like “Cure.” A handsome paradox, is it not? 
> 
> Hemlock: Curare coming soon... 
> 
> Extra! Some theme songs for each of the individual main characters because I can’t help myself
> 
> Dylan:  
> I Want You to Want Me (ft. Chantal Claret - Children of Paradise)  
> I Know I’m A Wolf (Young Heretics)  
> Pay the Man (Foster the People)  
> House of Memories (Panic!At The Disco)
> 
> Kieran:  
> Blue Blood (Foals)  
> Last Raindrop (Fitz & The Tantrums)  
> Ocean Drive (Duke Dumont)  
> SHC (Foster the People)  
> Colors (Halsey)  
> The Beach (The Neighborhood)
> 
> Lauren:  
> Haunting (Halsey)  
> Dream (Imagine Dragons) /  
> Rushing Back (ft. Vera Blue - Flume)  
> Midnight Sky (Miley Cyrus)  
> I Wanna Be Your Mirror (Temples)
> 
> Belladonna:  
> Tennis Court (Lorde)  
> Toxic (2WEI)  
> Glory and Gore (Lorde)


End file.
